


Secret

by Illusioneery (Arkee)



Series: Secrets Beyond Stone Walls [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Cloud's luck is a funny thing, LOVELESS is everywhere, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Talk About Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:17:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkee/pseuds/Illusioneery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"It's good (having a secret)"</i><br/>Cloud never makes it to Shinra military forces, settling down in Midgar's slums with his childhood friend for some good years until a terrorist attack forces them both to move out. This new city, however, holds a little secret. One that the young man soon finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Square of Stone Angels

It’s mid-autumn when he moves to that city with his childhood friend, after an unfortunate event left both of them homeless. The trees let go of their leaves whenever the slightest breeze blows, as Cloud makes his way to the nearest convenience store he can find, trying to recall what exactly Tifa wanted him to buy. He regrets not noting these things down, very much so. He goes through his mental list again, slowly and taking care to remember everything.

 _Eggs, flour, apples_ … He recalled a kind of apple that was a funny shade of purple, but dismissed the thought in order to avoid distracting himself. _Butter, a cleaner and also a… uh…_

A large leaf falls on his face. This wasn’t what he asked for when moving to a greener city. The thing bore the warm colors of autumn, the orange and brown hues making quite a nice picture on that surface, large enough to cover someone’s face as the blond man had noticed. Nature was a beautiful nuisance sometimes, he thought, dropping the leaf and surveying his surroundings. Despite the high risk of leaves falling on his very face, that was certainly a nice looking square, with statues decorating the place. Most of them were of angels. So... that was probably the Angel Square his new neighbors were talking about. _Oh_.

His eyes lingered just a little more than what they should on a particular statue near him. This angel had a long sword with him, but that wasn’t the interesting point of that piece. The most intriguing thing there was that on his back there was a single wing. It wasn’t even because of possible vandals, Cloud realized as he walked around the statue. That angel was clearly intended to have just one wing, for some reason. A plaque on the base of the piece had a single word there. _Sephiroth_. Nothing else was there, no information on whoever made that sculpture or if that was the artist’s name, which was unexpectedly sad, as the whole thing was so well done that the young man could almost swear that it was about to come to life, long stone hair that seemed to be floating all around the figure, as if the breeze was the one responsible by that.

_That, for reasons unbeknownst to him, looked oddly familiar._

_But he just couldn’t tell why._

The blond snapped out of it, remembering the reason he was passing by the Angel Square in the first place. Oh, right. He had to go and get a few things from the convenience store. But what were those things again? Cloud mentally cursed himself for forgetting the list of things once more. Right in that moment, his phone rang in his pocket. It was Tifa.

“Hey, Cloud. If there’s a newspaper stand near there, could you bring me the latest LOVELESS magazine?”

He sighed. Why was everyone so obsessed with LOVELESS these days?

“Fine… if I find one, yeah.”

She sounded really pleased when she spoke again, despite none of them being sure if the young man would find a newspaper stand, let alone find any remaining copies of the latest edition of that magazine. Funny enough, the magazine itself wasn’t about the book or the play of same name, but a publication about the lives of famous people, mostly actors and actresses. The name was highly convenient, especially since that book was made into a play.

“Ah, thank you so much! See you later, then.”

“See ya.” He said before hanging up.

He remembered a time when she wasn’t into gossipy magazines like that. But that was before they saw the play. A few days before that she’d read the book, reciting parts of the poem randomly through the day. Cloud didn’t know she was into poems, either.

 

_“When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end_

_The goddess descends from the sky_

_Wings of light and dark spread afar_

_She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting.”_

__

_“Are you reading LOVELESS again?” He asked._

__

_“Yeah… I heard that there’s a play based on it coming to town in a few days. I mean, you don’t need to go with me if you don’t want to, but…”_

__

_“No, I can go too."_

 

He sighed, drifting off for a brief moment with the memories of these days. They were living in a city named Midgar, but a terrorist attack forced half of the population to evacuate. They couldn’t go back to their hometown, the calm city of Nibelheim, because they couldn’t afford a house there and Cloud felt that they were too old to be living with their parents, or so those were his excuses to avoid returning there. At least they had moved to a less polluted place. But he still couldn’t understand what LOVELESS had that made it so special for almost everyone he knew.

Cloud gave a final look at that angel statue before moving on. He thought it was more captivating than that popular poem.

 

* * *

 

In the end, both Cloud and Tifa found a way to restart their business with their delivery agency, though Tifa feared they wouldn’t be as popular as they were back in Midgar, as back then they were the only ones running that kind of service there. However, their business was doing quite well thus far thankfully; the blond man had now a better garage to park his motorcycle – Fenrir – than what he had in their previous place. For that he was grateful.

It had been a few weeks since they moved in. Autumn was finally giving in to some signs of the upcoming winter, though some trees still had leaves and those could still fall on his face, were Cloud not to be careful about that. However, being quite busy with the delivery services, he barely had any time to pass by that particular square, choosing to pick up shortcuts when going to the convenience store.

One day, out of nowhere, Tifa announced happily that the LOVELESS play was in town, her hair, neatly tied up in a ponytail, swinging from a side to another as she cheerfully ran to him waving a newspaper in one hand. There was no way he was going to see that play again. She ended up inviting a friend to go with her and as such, their delivery agency was closed for the rest of that day.

After switching through the TV channels just to find nothing good enough to watch, Cloud decided to go out for a walk, wrapping a scarf around his neck to keep the weather from getting to him. He silently wished all those LOVELESS posters would go away from his sight, though that was something very unlikely to happen.

The Angel Square was deserted in the late afternoon, soon to be evening. He noticed there was something different about the square, but couldn’t tell exactly what. The breeze carried away some leaves as the courier made his way through that place. He was detained, though, by his scarf getting caught in something…

_The one winged angel statue._

Cloud looked carefully at the piece, while trying to free his scarf from the long stone sword. It seemed different from before. The single wing was no longer spread and the sword was dangerously pointing out to the path. Anyone could get their scarf stuck on that. Intriguing enough, the plaque under it still read _Sephiroth_ , so it had to be the same statue or else it got substituted but they never changed the identification on its base. It seemed that the latter wasn't the case, however, despite how absurd it sounded like. Why would any statue in such a good state be changed for a similar one in a different pose anyway?

The young man looked around. There was no one to help him with freeing his scarf from that sword.

“Shit.” He muttered quietly, now frenetically trying to get away from the angel’s sword, wasting too much time while doing so and managing no progress at all. It was too cold to walk around without a scarf, however.

Cloud surveyed his surroundings once more. He could simply let go of that piece of clothing and depart to find some help… but what if someone appeared and managed to take his scarf away, keeping it for themselves? No, the blond couldn’t allow that to happen.

“I think I should honestly apologize”, said a deep sounding voice near him, “Here, allow me to help you with that.”

But there was no one else in the square. Sky blue eyes found their way back to where the scarf was stuck, only to realize that the blade under the nicely knitted fabric was no longer made of stone and that a hand, as real as his own, was working a way to get the clothing out of the sword without further damaging it, long gloved fingers doing a quick and efficient job that Cloud wasn’t capable of.

He moved his head slowly, rising his sight carefully. He had to blink a couple times before realizing the impossibility of what he was seeing before him. Of course, he had seen unnatural things before, but that was just too much. The black wing moved, eventually dropping a few feathers on the ground. Cat-like turquoise eyes looked at him, their owner curious about the shorter man before him, taking in his looks, as if trying to remember Cloud’s face. Long, silver hair moved gracefully with the breeze, as also did the long black coat that the man wore.

 _The angel statue was alive and breathing right before his eyes_.

The blond man’s immediate reaction was to take a step backwards, something he regretted with all his might just a second later, as doing so got him to trip and fall. He was still looking at the taller figure standing atop the statue’s base. There was no way that was possible. It couldn’t be.

The angel, however, behaved as if that was something normal, part of a routine Cloud knew nothing about. He jumped down from where he was standing, silver hair floating gently when he did and a few more feathers lost to the wind. He offered the courier a hand to help him to his feet.

“Are you alright?” His voice resonates. It’s too much, way too much. The winged man realizes that the blond passed by just the other day. He doesn’t wait for Cloud’s answer, before adding “I remember you. You stopped by the other day… and kept looking at me.”

Cloud, however, offers him no answer other than silence, still awestruck by that sight and not knowing what to say, neither paying any attention to what he had been asked. The angel realized something was wrong and was, once again, apologetic.

“I’m sorry. It’s the wing, isn’t it? Right… there you go.” He did something that the blond couldn't exactly grasp that concealed it, successfully erasing its existence as a visible part of his being, in a fast and neat movement. “Why are you still so quiet?” He wondered, burying the sword in the somehow grassy ground near him in an attempt to make himself look less intimidating. The young man remained silent. “It seems to me that we didn’t start this properly. Allow me to give it another attempt. My name is Sephiroth. And you are…?”

“Cloud. Cloud Strife.” He said quietly. “I… don’t mind the wing. I just—I was a little shocked because… _you know_.”

Sephiroth let out a little “Oh” as the realization hit him. He wasn’t supposed to interact with others like he was doing. _Normal people didn’t have wings neither turned from statues to living beings and back on. Normal people didn’t carry long swords with them_. It was just like what Professor Hojo told him back in the day… that he was anything but a normal person. The only thing that he was, probably, was a sample for a study. Just a specimen that ran away and became a failure…   _A laboratory monster_.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.” Cloud said and just then the silver haired man realized that his feelings regarding the past were slipping away, covering his face with an expression of sadness. Sephiroth moved topics, faster than what was expected.

“Your name is quite funny. _Cloud_.” It had the winged man wondering. If Cloud were to become angered, would he become a _storm_? He didn’t want to test that hypothesis.

The blond snorted with laughter. “You shouldn’t be saying that to me, Seph.” Sephiroth didn’t like that nickname, mostly because it reminded him of things he’d rather forget. But it sounded different when it was the young man before him saying it. It sounded… _harmless_. So he allowed that, no further comments being added.

“So, Cloud. What are you doing outside in such a cold evening?” Of course, it’d get even colder when winter finally came, but it was reasonably cold, mainly due to the sun leaving for the night. The shorter man seemed to be aware of that, his somewhat damaged scarf hanging around his neck, twitching ever so slightly with the breeze. It was light blue, the same color as the sky during the day, a color that Sephiroth missed seeing for quite some time now, at least whenever he wasn't petrified. It shouldn't, but for some reason, it felt different to see that particular shade of blue when he could move like this. He took a seat on the nearby bench.

“Me? Out for a walk.” But that was before Cloud got his scarf stuck on this certain statue that turned out to be more than just that. Now he’d rather sit down than continue walking.

“Most people don’t walk around here around this time of the day… or _evening_ , that is.” The sky was tinted orange, gracefully matching the leaves remaining atop the trees and the natural carpet they made on the ground. Warm tones, but a chilly weather, regardless. "Shouldn't you be at home or — despite I hope not — at that _LOVELESS play_?" The way those two last words rolled out of his lips left Cloud with the assumption that the other man was quite tired of hearing about that play, which almost had him laughing. _Finally, someone who thought the same_.

"I've seen it once and it was enough." He confessed, with a smile. "My friend Tifa and everyone else seems obsessed with it, though... She put aside a whole afternoon of work to see it."

"Sometimes people sit on this very bench we're sitting on and read it to others. I don't find it that fascinating." But there was more, so much more, to that. It reminded the silver haired man of a time he lived in a laboratory, being part of a study that was trying to create super soldiers. There were two other men like him, wings sprouting of their backs when they'd aged enough, that were brought to the labs after some time. But unlike him, they turned out to be failures, after a while. The day following the one when they started degrading, probably to turn into monsters, he never saw them again. _They were his only two friends_. One of them annoyed him a lot with the poem, LOVELESS. "Indeed, I wish those fanatic readers would go away." He said, somewhat angered, but not truly annoyed.

Cloud laughed almost quietly. It was a good sound, that. "You could always point your sword at the bench... make it unusable during the day." It wasn't a bad idea.

"I shall take that suggestion into consideration." He nodded, allowing the two of them to fall into a comfortable silence for quite a while. It was nice to have some company, especially one that wasn't treating him as an object of studies, reciting poems or placing curses on him. Even when so quiet, the blond was still good company.

Even breaking the silence, he was still good to have around. Sephiroth wondered if it was due his lack of attention from other people.

"Seph. Why exactly are you... a statue during the day?" That question made him make a face, which drove Cloud to almost apologize awkwardly. Almost, because an answer was provided before that.

"There's a curse." He simply said. It threw them both back to a stone cold silence, as if the winged man had chosen to turn back into a statue.

The question that followed, as the sky darkened even more was so innocent that it almost made the blond sound like a child to him.

"How can I be sure you're not a dream?" Sephiroth eyed him. "I mean, having a statue come to life to help me with my scarf is quite... surreal. I could’ve fallen asleep on the couch somehow." It was so innocent that the winged man began to wonder himself if the blond was even real to begin with or if he had started to hallucinate after so long.

The angel let his wing out, to be seen once more, a few dark feathers falling from it, floating in the gentle breeze. He caught one, handing it to Cloud, who looked slightly puzzled. "If it doesn't disappear in the morning and if your scarf is still damaged, then I guess you have your evidence." He didn't dare to hide the black wing again, smiling gently without noticing that he was doing so. "I just must warn you... it'll be just a little _heavier_ by the time morning comes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to keep the notes at the end to...... keep it subtle, I guess.  
> [This wonderful short comic](http://milk-tales.tumblr.com/post/89908634906/you-wanted-to-kiss-her-long-before-she-asked-you) appeared on my Tumblr dashboard one day and let's say I kept thinking about it way too much, haha. It wouldn't leave me alone until I used the inspiration I got from it for something... anything. An alternate universe, perhaps.  
> But really, though, please check out [Milk-Tales' blog](http://milk-tales.tumblr.com/). It almost made my heart cringe when I saw a lot of things there hadn't so many notes... they deserve more.  
> And ah... please bear with me as this is my first serious attempt of writing anything with this pairing. Thanks for reading, by the way!  
> Rating might or might not change as I go, along with the tags and stuff.


	2. Just Another Busy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud meets old friends and a new, suspicious little figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that this chapter is a little shorter than the first one, maybe a thousand words less — though I haven't a way to be completely sure of that, as viewing that on G.Docs is just confusing to me — but hey, here we are, after some problematic creativity blocks!  
> Also a disclaimer: Corel was never destroyed in this AU, and as such, Corel Prison and the town in North Corel don't exist.  
> Enjoy!

She came home to a note on the fridge after a nice afternoon and evening out with Aerith. The house was somehow too quiet for her tastes, Cloud’s absence making it somehow empty as the TV was off and there was no one to notice her return, thus no one had said “Oh hey, Tifa.”

The note said little to nothing, merely informing her that he was out to get some air. It was already night and no signs of him being home at all. Tifa sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. Her phone buzzed quietly, but it was just a text of her friend asking if she’d made it back home safely. A quick reply to that followed before the brunette was dialing Cloud’s number in a heartbeat.

_It’s so late… what’s he doing out there?_

He wasn’t picking it up. A number of possibilities for that flashed in her mind, all of them seemed to be somewhat _scary_ to even be considered. He probably decided to get something from the convenience store and was most likely stuck in a line of other people trying to buy things there too. But her heart was racing with the probability of it not being that. She kept trying, only to have him not pick up his phone.

_Where are you, Cloud?_

The front door opened. Tifa turned abruptly, her worries suddenly becoming a fit of anger. The blond man by the door was acting as if it was just something that happened every other day. “Oh hey, Tifa.” he greeted, raising an eyebrow upon noticing her mood, but unsure about how he should approach her regarding that. In the end, however, he didn’t need to.

“Where were you?!” It was so sudden a burst that he took a step backwards. Now, what answer should he give to that? _I was having a nice time with an angel guy that’s stone cold during the day, literally_ didn’t seem to be very much acceptable. The one other option was lying about that, though he didn’t seem to like that idea. A voice in his head was telling him that it wasn’t lying if he was just hiding the truth. He dismissed it, quickly coming up with something.

“Ah, I went out for a walk but got hungry on the way… You won’t believe how huge that line was! I gave up on it after a while.” Something about that was true, though. He was hungry.

She seemed relieved for the moment, at least. Cloud took off his scarf, hanging it near the door. Hopefully, Tifa wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t intact anymore, if she didn’t look closer, that is. Still, he had to try fixing that later or he would feel guilty over it.

He had that scarf for years, a departure gift from Tifa from the time he left Nibelheim to try to join the Shinra’s military forces, though he never succeeded, staying in Midgar instead of going back to his hometown all ashamed. The brunette would find him one busy afternoon in the slums, just because he was wearing it to protect himself from the bitter winter. She'd never really told him why she’d moved, but as long as she was happy, it was alright, he thought. Just the smile on her lips and the warmth of her friendship were enough, as at least he wouldn’t have to be all alone.

None of them dared to mention the fact Cloud was out until so late. The blond believed that it was to avoid an awkward lecturing about how dangerous it could be to stay out on the streets at night all alone like that. Maybe it was something to talk about the next day, if Tifa would talk to him about that at all. That sort of discussion was something very unlikely of her, despite her motherly behavior.

 

* * *

  
  
He opened his eyes because of the light coming into the room, filling it with gentle golden hues. The blond stretched with a yawn, in an attempt to scare away the remaining sleepiness out of himself. On his nightstand there was a single feather, the stone material that it was made of was slightly warm because of the morning sun. Cloud took a while to notice it, the sleepiness insisting that he should just slow down and go back to sleep. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be tricked by that sweet temptation. The courier rolled the feather between his fingers, carefully trying to avoid dropping it. The softness it had the night before was gone, replaced by the hardness of a common stone. What it implied offered him a sorrowful thought.

 _Sephiroth_.

The Angel Square was probably bathed in sunlight, people most likely passing by there on their busy schedules. To the common eye, the one winged man would be just another statue, his petrified self serving as no more than decoration, that somewhat cold stare glaring intently at anyone who dared to look at his face. Completely unable to move a finger.

It was a fate so terrible and so lonesome that Cloud wondered how anyone could cope with that for long. _Maybe_ , said a sorrowful voice in his mind, _he couldn't_. Perhaps it'd get to him sooner or later and he'd prefer to be petrified forever than to continue living like that. The blond pushed the thought aside, disturbed by it for some reason.

He went downstairs for breakfast, finding a somewhat serious looking Tifa on the phone with someone. By the way she looked like, probably work. She was writing down a couple notes, making a sign with her head upon seeing him entering the kitchen and reaching for the box of cereal on the table. He'd gotten milk and was pouring it in a bowl of cereal when the call was over at last.

"You have no idea who just called." She said, putting the telephone away and getting a bowl of cereal for herself, a big smile taking over the serious look that was on her face.

"Who?"

"Do you remember Barret from Midgar? He has a bar now, just around that convenience store." Tifa told him, the smile never leaving her lips when mentioning their old friend.

Cloud was awestruck.

"Barret's moved to the same place as us? Woah, what a small world. I thought he'd go back to Corel instead after... the things that happened." And just to think he was ten minutes away from home, near Fast Chocobo made the young man smile. Perhaps he'd drop by there later to greet Barret and maybe little Marlene.

"He needs you to deliver a package. He said he 'won't let anyone else deliver things but Cloud'."

 _Oh_. So he was going to see an old friend earlier than he thought he would. That was nice. It indeed sounded more cheerful than what he was pondering about just after waking up, despite the main reason for going there being work.

 

* * *

 

Marlene ran towards him for a hug when he crossed the bar's door. He was happy to see her as well. That kid made Barret look less intimidating, which was a funny thing to think about. Talking of which, the man himself wasn't around. A young woman was taking care of the place and, Cloud assumed, looking after the little girl. She looked suspicious, though, and somehow seemed to have come from somewhere else.

“Oh, hey! You must be that kid Barret said that would drop by.” Cloud had no response to this, because she seemed to be younger than him. _She was the kid, not him_. He picked up Marlene and approached the counter. “You’re Cloud, right?”

“Yes… And you are?”

“Yuffie Kisaragi! You can call me Yuffie. Barret let me sell materia here because sometimes he goes out and can’t take little Marlene with him.” Oh, she was a materia seller then. The courier suspected that there was a reason other than having someone to look after the little girl for the bar’s owner to allow Yuffie’s presence there. Places that sold materia were, usually, well frequented. Those little bubbles were certainly very handly for a plethora of situations. Barret could make some extra money from simply allowing this woman to sell materia there. It was cleverly good for both sides. “Also, he said he’ll be back very soon, so if you want to wait… maybe buy some materia in the meanwhile.”

_She just wanted to sell her stock, didn’t she?_

After what seemed to be five minutes, Barret was back. Cloud didn’t buy any materia, despite the many attempts that little woman made to sell him some. He greeted the blond happily.

“Did you just grow a little bit?” was a question dropped in the middle of their conversation about work, deliveries and the package that had to be taken away. The blond knew that he hadn’t, because it hadn’t been that long since they last saw each other. He was probably being messed up with. "I mean, you look like you've pullin' a lotta weight."

 _Oh, that._ A result of so much delivery work as of lately. He could remember a very busy day in which he'd stop Fenrir only to pick up or hand over deliveries and to see if he had any voice mail or call back home to be sure of the next destination. Certainly a lot of picking up packages was involved when the courier was working.

"Oh no, that's just what a lot of work did... you know, picking up boxes and packages here and there. It's quite the exercise." Talking of which, the work day had barely began, though he wanted to stay and chat a little longer.

"Oh Gods. I'm keepin' you here..." Barret said, as if he could read minds. "You gotta yourself work to do! You should go... it's not like I'll move away anytime soon, so come here whenever you like." He was right and the courier couldn't deny that.

Cloud wished him and the girls a nice day and left. The Angel Square was somewhat close to where he was, so once he stepped outside the bar carrying the package he could see, in the distance, a petrified Sephiroth that seemed to be pointing his long sword towards the closest bench. The courier couldn't help but giggle, seeing that the man took his advice after all.

Just then, Tifa called. It was certainly going to be another busy day.

 


	3. Meteors and Apples

Cloud looked up at the sky, freezing in fear with the sight of that massive fireball, descending right into Midgar. There was no salvation anymore. The heat that emanated from it increased by every passing second, but there was nowhere to run. By this point it seemed that it would engulf more than just Midgar. The shock was too much for the blond to move, so there was nothing that he could do other than watch the meteor crashing down, almost hypnotized, the heat of it consuming him, and burning everything as it slowly landed.

"If I'm fated to burn, so are you." A deep voice uttered from somewhere behind him. He wished he could turn around to see who that was, but he simply couldn't move. "Let's burn together then, you and me... until we're nothing but ashes that blend and become one with the wind." The voice purred. It was close, but at the same time, far away. It was everywhere.

His bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat as Cloud jolted awake, the fear still dominating him. It was just a nightmare, just that. He had to convince himself that it couldn't hurt him.

It was just a few minutes past midnight. The green light from the clock on his nightstand was shining over a single black feather. It camouflaged itself within the darkness of the bedroom, but its corners were illuminated by the numbers on the little device near it. It seemed soft, unlike the feather shaped stone it appeared to be during the day.

_What if...?_ , Cloud thought, an idea forming on his mind. He tried to sleep it off, but his attempt in doing so turned out to be unsuccessful, as he kept reminding himself of that nightmare. _Maybe, if he left quietly..._ It felt as if the courier was a high school student, forbidden from going to a night concert, but going anyway. The blond slipped out of bed smoothly, being as quiet as he could while washing his face and changing his clothes.

He just prayed Tifa wouldn't find out he’d left as he wrapped the scarf around his neck and stepped outside.

* * *

 

"First time you were out on a walk... but that's not the case now, is it?" Sephiroth said, apparently surprised with his return and somewhat delighted, before taking another bite of his apple.

"You have an apple." It was all he could say. Of course, the silver haired man had to eat. He was cursed, but he still had needs. But how did the winged man get that apple in the first place? Did he buy it? Or did he find it somewhere? Or worse, _did he steal it?_ The figure atop the stone structure stared at him, trying to understand his confusion.

"Someone forgot a basket full of them under a bench. Do you want one?" Cloud shook his head, sitting on the bench with a sigh. The blond was distant, the memory of that nightmare still trying to harm him. “What’s wrong?” Sephiroth asked, moving smoothly from where he was sitting to the bench, leaving in the air the sound of what resembled a bird flapping its wings. Though the blond didn’t see when the winged man did that, he wondered how he could even glide with just one wing. It made him remember the time, many years before, when he found a bird with an injured wing. The poor thing couldn’t even manage to hoover an inch over the ground. _Then… how could he, a full grown man... with a single wing...?_

The courier didn’t think he wanted to know the answer to that question. He also didn’t want to ask why, suddenly, soft feathers were all around him, though he appreciated their presence as the wing sheltered him from the cold weather just like a thick blanket would.

“I had a nightmare.” Cloud finally told him, so tempted to touch those feathers that he was struggling not to do so.

That triggered a lot of memories in Sephiroth’s head, most of them unpleasant because a certain Professor Hojo was present in them, doing anything but what he needed the most back then, that was reassurance that everything would be alright. The black wing curled even more around Cloud, protectively.

Still, the blond didn't dare to touch it, fearing it could cause some sort of awkwardness. He knew for a fact how much birds valued their wings, but for not knowing how much an angel could value his, he preferred to keep his fingers as far away as he could from the soft looking feathers, even though they were terribly close to him.

"Well, uh... I couldn't fall asleep again and I remembered you so I... yeah." He explained.

"You needed comfort. However, I do wonder... what kind of person leaves their house at such a time to meet up with someone they knew for just one day, only to seek comfort?" The man paused briefly to take another bite of the purple apple in his hand; a variant brought from Banora, yet rarely seem around those parts. To have a basket full of them for free was most likely a sign of good luck, as they were quite expensive around there.

"The same kind who looks at a cursed man and sees kindness in him."

It seemed to be a valid answer. "How would you even know that? For the lack of any information, I could be a mage aiming to fool the first person who would fall for the trick. Isn't trusting in a stranger and seeking comfort in them a risky move? How could you discern good from evil in such a situation?" Sephiroth had met, in the past, many men who were praised and looked upon, though their true natures were those of wicked intentions. Looking at Cloud, who didn't fear or judge him and even seemed to take some pity on him for the curse he bore, the silver haired man wondered whether or not he'd been just unlucky in life prior that point with the people he met. "Even the most renowned scientist could be the worst of all men, though he worked to improve life, for all we know."

"Your eyes... they don't look like the eyes of an evil man. They just look, eh... sorrowful."

“Do you really think so?” Cloud nodded with a brief humming sound. “Well, then. Do you think talking about that nightmare would help?”

Another nod.

“Maybe?”

“We’ll never know if you don’t try.” Sephiroth offered.

“Well… alright. There was a giant fire ball crashing down into the place I used to live and I was there… I couldn’t move. I couldn’t flee from it…” It couldn’t hurt him, obviously, but the images were still so vivid in his mind that it was somehow hard to deal with them.

“A giant fire ball… a meteor?”

Cloud gave him a shy nod. The wing moved yet closer, as though it were trying to shelter him from the terrifying memories of what he’d dreamed of. It was so close now that the blond couldn’t resist the temptation of smoothing the dark feathers with the back of his hand anymore. They were so soft against his touch, the wing twitching ever so slightly under such ministrations, though Sephiroth didn't protest at all. Indeed, though he wouldn't say, the man was quite enjoying that. It felt... oddly nice.

It was, however, a strange way to bond with someone.

"Though it may happen," Sephiroth started, trying to hold back a contented sound or two, his wing moving involuntary, forcing the blond to approach a little more "I don't think a meteor will fall any time soon. So you're safe."

Cloud kept smoothing the soft plumage, as he found out quickly that doing so was strangely comforting. He didn’t even know why.

"Do you — for some reason — like feathers, Cloud?" The winged man wondered, trying not to purr while doing so.

"Uh... yes." The blond answered, before realizing that he had been stroking the quills longer than he probably should. "Oh Gods, I— I'm so sorry... do you want me to stop?"

"No, please continue if you so wish. It's... relaxing."

Silence fell between them, as Cloud kept his fingers busy with dark feathers and a cold breeze blew. However, the courier couldn't feel it with that black wall of plumage sheltering him.

"It's my time to wonder... why would you let a stranger touch your wing?"

"Because said stranger seems to find kindness in a monster." He purred.

"I don't think you're a monster." It was a quick reply, but not a lie at all.

"Then, Cloud, what am I?"

Cloud considered his own words for a moment, so tempted to cross a thin line there and press his cheek against the black plumage.

"I think you're an angel. A cursed one... with very nice feathers."

Sephiroth thought that Hojo would laugh of that one, had he been present to hear that. Or else he would be so disgusted by the blond man's kindness that he'd most likely attempt to use a Firaga materia on himself and combust to ashes even darker than the silver haired man's wing. The latter was funny to consider, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to see that disgusting old man ever again.

"Angels usually have pristine wings of pure white, Cloud. All I have is darkness and I don't even have two of them."

"You're different then... an angel of the night, maybe? You're still an angel, for me at least."

Something that neither of them expected happened: Sephiroth chuckled, his low voice resonating as he did. It was a foreign sound, one that he'd long forgotten. When was the last time he laughed, anyway? Probably when Shinra was attacked and he could make his move to escape that place.

"What's so funny?" The shorter man asked.

"You, insisting that I'm an angel."

“Oh c’mon. You look like one.” Cloud protested, a yawn escaping him.

“It’s way too long past your bedtime, Cloud.” The smile on his face almost shouted _You have no strength to keep up with this little argument and thus, I have won_. The last time he could remember feeling like that he was wrecking training rooms, just to mess up with the people from Shinra’s Science Research Division and, in a way, in hope he’d find a way out of that place. In the end, however, his plans were changed. “And I still strongly disagree with that.”

Sephiroth moved back to where he was before the courier’s arrival, as smoothly as he did when he moved to the bench, leaving behind cold wind that lifted the tips of the blond’s scarf for a brief moment and ruffled his golden locks. Cloud missed the warmth of those black feathers around him almost instantly. The silver haired angel, however, just placed the remnants of the first apple near the basket and got another one, taking a bite from it.

“Alright, alright. But I’ll come back, it’s a promise.”

“Say that again when you’re less sleepy, I dare you.”

But even with that, Cloud returned a third time, a couple nights later. His excuse for that night was that it was a holiday and he was left all alone by his housemate, who left for a girls’ night with a friend. The feeling of being alone with nothing but his thoughts was something Sephiroth could relate to.

The fourth time was because Tifa started working at Barret's and while the courier would still carry on with the deliveries — and the brunette would take care of some calls — that night she decided to stay there longer than usual to get used to the place and so, he was alone that evening.

The fifth time onwards, when all the trees missed their leaves and they were practically days away from the upcoming winter, Cloud simply stopped giving a reason for why he would leave his house to go to the square and also started going there more often. The one winged angel had stopped counting how many times they've met by then.

No one else knew about the true nature of Sephiroth as a cursed man. It was a thing that just the two of them were aware of, as were those secret meetings they shared.

It was nice, sharing a secret or two.


	4. Memoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memoria (n). _Latin_. From _memor_ — mindful, remembering. The ability to remember something or a remembrance. Or yet, by extension, a time of remembrance. Memory; as in that thought of a past experience stuck in the back of one's mind that returns eventually, though not always pleasant or convenient and though not always shared with others.  
>  _Italian_ (n). Recollection, note. Monograph; — from the Greek _mono_ (single) and _grapho_ (to write) — a way to present one's _study or research_ about a specific subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning for some violence in this chapter... _yeah_. And some blood, but do not despair.  
>  I also took some plot liberties with Gast in order to make a few things work out, but nothing too extreme, I think.  
> I guess that's all for now. Enjoy~

The young boy with silver hair — a result from the experiments done to him prior his birth — entered the laboratory, innocent eyes of a curious turquoise color searching for a human figure in between all the equipment there. His hair certainly needed a new haircut, Professor Gast thought. But it'd be hard to get such an energetic little boy like that —  with more strength than he should have for his age — to sit down and stay still for a while. Maybe they should just let it grow.

_Perhaps, Hojo wouldn't even notice. If he did, he surely wouldn’t care._

Gast didn't like his colleague’s methods when it came down to doing science. They were too extreme. Of course, they were trying to create a hybrid of the long extinct Cetra with a human, but that was no excuse to go as far as treating that child as just another sample.

"Oh, if it isn't the little Sephiroth." He greeted.

The four year old turned in the direction of the voice, finally finding the person he was looking for.

"Professor Gast... was my mommy a good person?"

That was a strange question.

But the scientist could remember Lucrecia as such, though the presence of a bad influence such as Hojo was and her intense devotion to science.

"Yes, she was very kind." The kid suddenly had tears in his eyes that he couldn't control anymore. "What's wrong?"

"It's just— when Professor Hojo told me who she was... he looked so scary."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said 'Your mommy was Jenova.'" He sobbed. Sephiroth was terrified. It probably had something to do with the way Hojo told him that, Gast thought.

While it wasn't completely a lie, as he bore the cells of that Cetra, but it was still beyond offensive to poor Lucrecia's memory. JENOVA was one of the Ancients. While it couldn’t be harmful to let things stay the way they were, it was probably wiser to tell the poor boy the truth and comfort him.

“Sephiroth, listen to me. Your mother, she was—” The scientist started, only to be interrupted by Hojo, who entered the laboratory in search of his lost “sample”. It was very clear to Gast that his colleague had done something other than just telling him JENOVA’s name that scared that kid to death, as Sephiroth was reluctant to leave.

_But what?_

 

* * *

 

He’d made a terrifying mistake.

Gast paced through his laboratory, restless and unsure about what to do with the new pieces of information he’d come across through his researches and Shinra’s investigations. What had he allowed to happen with that mistake? What would the products of the JENOVA Project become? All his research, all what they knew about the Ancients could be a lie.

 _JENOVA wasn’t a Cetra_.

That was the corpse of an alien, who apparently wiped all the Ancients through means still unknown, except for this woman, Ifalna, who Shinra claimed to be a Cetra. The implications of that were unsettling, as it meant that all the subjects with those cells, especially Sephiroth, who had direct contact with them before birth, were contaminated with something they had little to no data about. This was beyond what he intended to research.

Gast also learned that they wanted to run experiments with Ifalna as a test subject, as if it wasn’t enough to already have contaminated people with the cells of the creature he first thought to be a Cetra. Just thinking about that made him feel sick.

He simply couldn’t allow that to happen, even if he needed to run away with her to the end of the world.

 

* * *

 

 

The child thought that Professor Gast had gone on a trip. It was a normal thing for the scientists to leave temporary because of their work, he had noticed by now. But he still couldn’t help the fear he felt as he curled up under his covers at night. It was like that for longer than what he hoped it would be and Professor Hojo’s attitude towards him wasn’t helping very much, either.

He was almost six years old when someone told him that Gast wasn’t coming back anymore. At such a young age, he barely could grasp the concept of death, though he was aware that it certainly wasn’t a good thing to hear. When it finally sunk in, he felt broken, but held back the tears, afraid of what Hojo could do or say if he were to be caught crying like that. Sephiroth had been told that the scientist was away from Shinra when it happened. He wondered if it was nice to be outside of that place. _How was the world out there?_ The boy wished he’d know, someday.

Curious turquoise eyes, of a shade that leaned more towards green than blue, explored the room he was in, as he waited for one of Hojo’s — now the head of the Science Research Division — assistants to come pick him up for a series of tests. He wasn’t aware that all of those tests’ results were used to improve Shinra’s newest military program, SOLDIER. But even if he did, Sephiroth was just tired of them.

_Professor Gast, why did you have to die?_

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth grew up to detest Hojo and whatever that mad man did. The silver haired teenager had tried to escape from Shinra more than once, only to be brought back inside by the Turks. He could be stronger than the average Turk, but he was outnumbered by them, even though they had direct orders not to hurt him. He spent a long time without trying, until he heard something about a woman and a little girl that were held captive had escaped and his hopes of succeeding went up again. In the end, he’d tried so many times that he was given a chance to be in SOLDIER even earlier than what Shinra originally wanted. If he knew that trying to run away would lead up to that, he’d have tried to perform that stunt earlier.

He knew for a fact that once someone in SOLDIER made it to first class they were given more liberties. Even if he couldn’t make it to first, just going out for missions seemed to be very appealing compared to being in those laboratories for long periods of time. At least, he thought as he tied up his hair before leaving for the exam, he’d be far away from the mad scientist who was his mentor and his weird assistants, who insisted calling him Seph in order to keep communication fast and simple between them as they went on with experimenting. All of the things that happened in those laboratories were very unfeeling, oddly technical.

Maybe he could try to run away again, during a mission. They'd believe him to be dead and leave him alone at last. Or so he hoped, before being informed that Hojo would still be monitoring him, even from afar. The silver haired teen could feel his blood, along with the Mako in his body, boil from being told that. Sephiroth did his best to conceal what he was feeling, as throughout the years he'd realized that his emotions could be either used against him or experimented on, played with. He sat through the explanation about the uniforms and how training would be carried before he could be assigned proper missions. There were specific rooms just for that purpose, being under Hojo and his team's supervision whenever specific tests needed to be run on members of SOLDIER. He was told he couldn't have other scientist to be addressed to watch over him through those tests, as that was a specific request from the man himself and the researcher was the head of that division. At his lack of an answer to what he had been told, Sephiroth was merely told that "Hojo knows what he's doing, you'll be fine." But he knew everything about that man and could tell without doubt that Professor Gast was by far a better scientist than the mad man could ever think of being. He was also a safer person to be around, if anything. Hojo didn't know what he was doing, other than looking for ways to please Shinra, regardless if he was or wasn’t aware of the danger he put others through while doing so.

His ponytail swung behind him as Sephiroth made his way to where he was told his new apartment would be, eyes of cold turquoise registering nothing more than what was necessary. The other thirds in his way seemed to be intimidated by his cold gaze, but he couldn’t help it.

 

* * *

 

When he felt he was closer than ever to being promoted to first class, Sephiroth was introduced to other two young men who had become thirds just mere weeks before. One of them, a redhead named Genesis, seemed to have an obsession with literature. The other SOLDIER, Angeal, seemed much more mature in comparison. The silver haired man was only supposed to assist them with their training, for there weren’t any firsts available to do so and he was the second with the best skills to handle that situation. There were little to none expectations from his part regarding any form of bonding with those two.

“There is no hate, only joy. For you are beloved by the goddess.” Genesis said, after one of their training sessions. While Sephiroth seemed confused by that, their companion offered a smile, though he probably ignored the quote. Either that or he was used to it. “Those are the opening verses of LOVELESS, second act.” The redhead explained. “It seemed nothing but fitting for the moment.”

Angeal offered him a look of comfort throughout that explanation. He later revealed, once the their companion had left, that there was a whole history regarding Genesis’ obsession with that piece of poetry and thus, he’d recite parts of it from time to time.

The second class SOLDIER didn’t think it would be a problem, as he had no plans of bonding with the thirds more than what was necessary for the training, though the raven haired one was apparently interested in becoming friends with him.

Sephiroth didn’t even know what friends were at first, as he grew up around people he couldn’t trust, but it was nice to have Angeal and Genesis around. It was good to watch as they made it through the ranks, as in the end the three of them were together at the very top. And it was certainly amazing to make a mess out of the training room when the seconds and thirds were gone, just to mess up with Hojo and his team. But it was, at the same time, conflicting. Even though he was a first, a General, the silver haired man was seemingly forbidden of leaving other than for missions and Shinra related business.

 _He felt as though… he were locked in a cage_.

“Wings stripped away, the end is nigh.” Their companion recited, a book in his hand and the breeze shifting his red coat slightly. The skies in the Junon cannon simulation bore orange hues, but instead of giving off a hint of the approaching evening, it had a feeling of finality, as if something wrong would happen soon.

The next moment they were aware of, Genesis was collapsing atop the cannon, helplessly holding his left shoulder as his knees met the warm metal of the simulated cannon. Angeal was the first to run towards him, but stopped abruptly with Sephiroth behind him as they watched the impossible happen. Feathers of darkness floated in the gentle breeze before their very eyes as the wing flared behind him. The three friends stared at one another, unsure about what exactly happened.

“Don’t let anyone from the Science department see that.” The silver haired General caught himself saying. Though the man in red clothes didn’t say a thing, his wing responded to that by curling up in a resting position behind him. It was still an offending presence, however, and very visible to anyone’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

Genesis slipped into his apartment at an inhuman hour, though the General was awake, completely restless. There was something very wrong about the way he carried himself, almost as if he were drunk. He made his way to the small kitchen like that, eventually giving up and supporting himself against Sephiroth.

"Genesis—"

"I found out the truth."

"What?" Was there anything there to be found in the first place?

"They've done something to us— you, Angeal and I... we're all doomed, we're nothing but monsters. We need to leave Shinra or else—"

"I can't leave." Sephiroth said with some finality in his voice, so intense to be concealed. He couldn't, even if he wished. Hojo would just track him down and bring him back. "We'd be caught if I left."

"Is the great Sephiroth afraid?" He asked, slight mockery in his voice, mostly from the nervous state he found himself in.

"No, but you wouldn't understand it, either. Get out. Now." The General insisted.

Genesis gazed at him, trying to prove him wrong and understand the reasoning behind that veil the other first put between himself and everyone, but failed at it. "Hollander says he has a cure. We could be normal again." He finally offered, but that only served to drive Sephiroth even more away. The simple fact that the General had told him to stay away of any person from the Science department and yet he did the opposite filled the silver haired man with a strange feeling of something akin to annoyance.

"You mean yourself, only. I don't have a wing and Angeal doesn't, as well."

"Sephiroth..." He reached out for a pocket in his coat, pulling a white feather out of it. It didn't match the offending extra limb on the redhead's back. "He does. It sprouted out after we parted ways to return to our apartments."

Sephiroth swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, hard, while trying not to lose his stance. If Hollander already knew, that either meant they'd leave Shinra or that the Science Research division had earned two new test subjects. Any of these options implied that the silver haired man would be alone again. He briefly wondered if maybe, someday, he'd end up going crazy with the experiments and tests. Either that or Hojo would get something wrong for once and lose him entirely.

"Is Zack Fair aware of his mentor's state?" It was all he could ask. The General could recall meeting that second class before. Zack was like a puppy, full of life and energy. If only he knew what Shinra was up to, the things that happened in the laboratories when nobody was watching... maybe he'd be more of an old dog than a little puppy.

"He left him a note... and that sword he never uses."

"Then go, you two. If you're going to leave this place, do it before anyone finds out." Sephiroth said, pushing Genesis away from him so he'd leave. The redhead balanced himself the best he could without that support.

The look that he offered the General before him wasn't very friendly, though.

"Why aren't you leaving with us?"

"You wouldn't—" Sephiroth started, only to be interrupted.

"What I wouldn't understand? That you're staying because you're comfortable with your fame as a hero?" The man had no time to answer that as his friend kept going. "There's no such thing as heroes, Sephiroth. We're all monsters... we're nothing but Shinra's killing machines. And so are you." He barked. And with that, he turned and left, almost tripping in his weird state of weakness. He barely managed to get past the door without knocking over anything in the small apartment with his large black wing. The silver haired man made no move to stop him, his fists clenching with his effort not to be affected by that conversation, not to waver, even though there was nobody there but himself. He needed to feel that he was in control, but that sensation was trying to escape him.

The General punched the fridge’s door. It was severely damaged under the pressure his knuckles offered.

 _Was he even human?_ Even with all of Hojo’s experiments, was he a human being? Or was he the same as the monsters he sliced with his sword during those dangerous assignments he was given? He trembled, pressing his fist even further into the cold metal. Sephiroth had managed to make a hole on the door and the edges of it were now digging into his skin. The smell of blood made itself evident. His body kept trying to heal that self inflicted injury as the thought that a regular human’s body probably shouldn’t be able to do that with such a speed passed through him, filling his mind as some sort of poison would.

And worse than anything, he was alone. _Again_.

 

* * *

 

Being alone with nothing but his own thoughts was a dangerous thing. It was almost intoxicating, if anything. His grip around Masamune’s hilt tightened, as he mused about the past. The blade cut through the soft soil, digging into it, ravaging the grass that covered it. Sephiroth felt like he could set all the trees around him on fire if he could. However, the plants hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve such a treatment.

He was just so angered that from all the things he could think about — the state of that little city, the snow that would eventually fall and cover that square in blessed white, shopping baskets full of food that people would forget, the crescent moon above him taking the place of a warm sun he so dearly missed — he thought of the past, of the things he wanted to forget.

Maybe Cloud’s company could fix that, Sephiroth thought, only to have that odd sensation of fear flutter over him. He’d lost Professor Gast, Genesis and Angeal before. He didn’t even have the chance to meet his biological parents. _What if something bad would happen if the blond stayed around him?_ He bit down on his lower lip at that thought. No, he couldn’t allow that. Even if that meant that Cloud had to leave.

“Seph?”

Sephiroth rose his head at the sound of that voice that called him. It was almost as if the shorter man could be summoned by simply becoming the object of one’s thoughts for some few seconds.

“Please leave.” He warned.

“But Seph, I—”

The wing behind him flared and all of sudden Masamune was freed from the ground, its tip pointing dangerously at Cloud’s chest, forcing him to take a step or other backwards. Widened blue eyes gazed at the former General, failing to understand that mood swing. Trembling lips moved, trying to say something but their owner was unsure of what should be said when he had a sword pointed at his chest by someone who was his friend.

“Cloud. Leave… _now_. Don’t make me do this.” The silver haired man threatened, though he had no intention of running that blade through his friend’s chest. He just wished the other would leave, so he wouldn’t get hurt. So Sephiroth’s past would remain a secret from him, the good times they shared becoming memories to be remembered and cherished. The winged man simply felt that he could bear anyone’s pity but Cloud’s.

Cloud hesitated, taking another step backwards and moving away even further away as the swordsman left the stone structure he was sitting on and kept moving in his direction, the sword firmly pointing at the blond’s chest. There was anger in the piercing glare of those turquoise eyes, burning in violent waves that were beyond intimidating.

Even with that, the courier was either too shocked to move or he was challenging the order Sephiroth had given him.

_Why won’t he just leave?_

The silver haired man lowered his sword, letting out a hiss. He turned around and took off, a few black feathers floating in the air as he did so. If Cloud wouldn’t leave, the former General had to go away. The shorter man couldn’t follow him skyward, anyway.


	5. Some Little Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"In the very end, all that he longed for was the harsh weather over fair skies_  
>  _The latter, he thought, was a gift for those pure of heart who hadn't been told such lies_  
>  _And of such a nature he wasn't_  
>  _(For he hath seen the world from the heights,_  
>  _And for he hath fallen so low)_  
>     
>  _His companion to him turned, as he intended to leave, to reach the sky"_  
>   
>  _—My friend, do you fly away now?_  
>  _To a world that abhors you and I?_
> 
>  _All that awaits you is a somber morrow,_  
>  _No matter where the winds may blow..._  
>     
>  _"But no love he had for the peace offered by the fair skies_  
>  _He'd rather put up with a strife and face the storm's cries"_
> 
> _—My friend, your desire_  
>  _Is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess_  
>     
>  _Even if the morrow is barren of promises_  
>  _Nothing shall forestall my return_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God, every single time I read this again 'just to make sure it's alright' I'd end up rewriting a ton of things... but finally (!!!) got to a point that made me go like 'ok, this is it'.  
> Also, hey, a big thanks to everyone reading for reading so far! Hope you're all enjoying it.

She turned around at the sound of her phone, the familiar tune briefly echoing through the bar as the brunette reached for it. Her hair moved gently behind her as she did so, grinning at the sound she’d just heard.

“Strife Delivery Services, you name it and we deliver it.” Tifa greeted, taking in the request and noting some addresses down. She was barely aware of Yuffie gazing at her, while polishing the materia stock for — maybe — the fifth time just that hour, ordering the spheres by type and function. The brunette seemed even more cheerful as she dialed Cloud’s number and called him to direct the blond to the next delivery.

The bar’s movement was slower than usual that day. Perhaps the chilly weather was driving customers away, though one or another still showed up for a drink or a snack. It’d become worse when the snow decided to fall. But that was the sort of business that never closed, no matter if just one lost soul would cross those doors for a drink or something. However, with the movement so reduced, everyone was somehow bored.

“I’m gonna cook us somethin’ real fast.” Barret said, standing up from where he’d sat after he cleaned up a part of the place with Tifa’s help.

“Do you want some help?” Tifa offered.

“No, it’s alright. Y’all stay there and wait for a bit.”

She nodded and sat down on one of the stools by the counter. A cheerful little Marlene approached, almost bouncing in happiness. Oh, kids were a delight, the brunette thought. Maybe one day she’d have at least one of her own.

“Tifa, Tifa, Tifa.” She called out happily.

“Yes, Marlene?”

“Do you… like Cloud?”

Of course it was just an innocent question, but it still sent her into a fit of nervousness because of many reasons. Yuffie rose her head from the light blue materia she was polishing behind the counter with so much interest that it almost drove the brunette’s attention away from the little girl. However, was anyone but the woman herself supposed to know that? Would anyone else understand what she truly felt? Better than that, was it safe to tell Marlene that? After all, the courier would stop by quite often and children were completely honest about most things. And the situation was… actually a little _complicated_.

“...Yes.” She finally decided, the shortest and easiest answer eventually slipping away from her lips.

Marlene let out a long _Ooh_ , while the other woman dropped the materia she was holding, barely managing to catch it mid-air in a very clumsy way.

“But, but… do you like him like the flower girl likes that kind guy?” The little girl asked, recalling Aerith and her ex-SOLDIER boyfriend who made it part of the weekend routine to visit the bar. It was funny to think that Cloud hadn’t met Zack, but if he did and learned that the man had left the military program the courier wanted to be in… that would draw quite a reaction out of him. Yuffie let go of her precious sphere polishing work and approached, as if she were asking to be included in some sort of secret girl group that knew about Tifa’s feelings towards the blond young man… or something along those lines. The long haired brunette did her best not to blush with that comparison, but it didn’t work very well.

"Uh... just a bit? Not that much, it’s not even worth telling—"

"Oh Shiva! Tell him! Tell him!" Yuffie bursted off, interrupting her. Marlene let out a sound of happiness, followed by a way too festive "Tifa likes Cloud!".

"He doesn't like me back that way, you two. Besides, ah… I’m almost moving on, really."

The materia seller made her way around the counter and sat on a stool, beside the long haired woman.

"How would you know without trying? You need to tell him first!" She protested.

"Cloud said more than once that I'm... like a sister to him, you know? Not directly, but yet… dilly dally, shilly shally." Tifa sighed.

“I think you still should tell—” Yuffie started, but interrupted herself with a squeak when Barret reappeared. While it was no trouble if he overheard that as he wasn’t the blond courier, she felt as if it was a girls only sort of talk.

“Y’all are so lively, what’s goin’ on?”

Marlene turned around.

“Tifa has a secret!” She exclaimed.

“Then don’t tell anyone, alright?” The man offered some support. He had an idea of what that was about, as his daughter and the materia seller were being a bit too loud about it. They were lucky that Cloud wasn’t around, because otherwise he’d have heard some of it, too. The little girl nodded in agreement, making a silent vow not to say anything about that. The man smile and let out a “That’s my little girl” in approval. Barret left yet again, to finish what he was cooking back there in the little kitchen.

What none of them seemed to realize, however, was that while Tifa somewhat still liked the blond man that way, she wasn’t putting much hope in ending up with him anymore. It had been like so for quite a while, that sensation of having moved on without really doing so. At that point, she just wanted him to be happy and it didn’t even matter in the end if she was the chosen one or not. The brunette just didn’t want to be with him if there was someone out there who could have him become overwhelmed with happiness with nothing but a glance. It would be selfish of her if she thought of that otherwise, if she tried to make him stay by her side as more than a close friend out of his pity.

It’d be like locking away a bird and keeping it from flying. That would hurt her instead of making her happy.

 

* * *

 

Cloud was all alone for the evening onwards.

It was the first time that such a thing happened in quite a while. At first, the courier thought that he could deal with that just fine, as he’d been alone before, — when he was a kid before anyone wanted to be his friend, the time he was trying to get into SOLDIER, before Tifa had moved away from Nibelheim to join him in that new life in Midgar, before having someone to meet up with when she was away having a girls’ afternoon with Aerith or something like that — but he unfortunately realized that it wasn’t the case.

The blond man was unquiet, pacing around the living room and ignoring completely the noises that came from the TV — a chocobo race that he tried watching to avoid thinking too much about what happened — as anything else but work seemed to distract his mind from the things that occurred through the previous night. He wandered, ended up in the kitchen twice, just like one of those lively chocobos on TV — unable to calm down without a good race. His mind was surely like one of those birds, racing with a thousand thoughts. Had he done something wrong that managed to upset the one winged man? If so, what was it? Maybe he talked about Tifa too much to him and probably Sephiroth thought that Cloud was there just to have a substitute. Or perhaps the courier had stroked his wing the wrong way. He just didn’t know what was wrong and he couldn’t even ask.

Cloud felt terribly lonely. It had been, of course, just one day, but he already missed the trivial conversation, the laughter over random things, the company, the dark feathers keeping him safe from the cold and even the moments of silence. He missed the silent _Do you want to walk me back home?_ that would need nothing but a glance to be understood. The latter was something that started when the blond stayed for too long once but it had become a habit as the nights passed by. It was recent, but he missed it more than he was able to explain.

 _I wish I had wings,_ he thought, _so I could’ve gone after you_.

He’d have gone anyway, — even on foot — if he just knew where the man was headed, if the shock of the situation unfolding before him hadn’t kept him in place, as though he were the one cursed and had just turned into a statue right in that moment.

The young man stopped pacing and sunk into the couch, his feet silently thanking him for choosing to stop. He sighed and his hand trailed up to the necklace he wore, pulling it off the secrecy of his shirt and into view. The feather he’d attached to it — to avoid losing it — was soft against his fingers, dark and shiny against the light of the living room. It was barely anything compared to the wing it came from.

He wish he could allow himself to just leave, to go to the square and visit the man. However, as the blond was unsure if it was him or something else that caused the angel to snap at him like that, he just couldn’t. It’d be a stupid move, if anything, as he didn’t have a sword of his own to fight back.

Cloud turned, burying his face in a cushion. It was probably his fault, just like the time he couldn’t save Tifa from falling when they were kids. For a brief moment, he could swear he’d heard the sound of wings flapping outside, but couldn’t bother with looking to be sure. If anything, it just made him push his face into that cushion even further.

He stayed like that for a while, eventually relaxing and falling asleep. The next thing he was aware of, other than his dream of soft feathers, was the light filtering through the window and the sheets covering him. The courier had been holding the feather even in his sleep, though it was heavier and harder now that it was daytime. He sighed, tucking the necklace away from sight.

It was a Sunday. While Tifa had work to do from the middle of the afternoon onwards, Cloud claimed that to be his free day, unless an emergency turned up.

"Hey, you're awake! Good morning." The brunette said. He was still sleepy and barely caught the words.

"...Morning." He replied, with a yawn.

“Aerith is coming here today.” She simply announced.

“Oh, is she?”

Tifa answered him with a quiet hum in agreement. Aerith was always good company to have around. Though she was slightly older than both of them, she bore such a youth that anyone could swear she was actually ageless. It’d be nice to have her around, Cloud thought. At least he wouldn’t think too much about the silver haired man or the reasons the angel had to point a sword at him.

 

* * *

 

Aerith brought them some flowers, under the excuse that they made the environment happier and attracted good luck. Though it was uncertain whether they really did those things or not, they were at least very beautiful, the shades of yellow and white enlightening the place a little.

But even with that, Cloud was somewhat distant, thoughtful. Anyone could say that he was sad but trying to conceal that feeling to no avail. Tifa was almost distracted by his mood, though she tried to focus on the movie they were watching. And by almost that meant that the brunette was so terribly close to calling it a break to get more food so she could ask him what was wrong. The blond, unbeknownst to them, just wanted to seek some comfort about what had happened regarding Sephiroth, but he didn't know how to do that without bringing up the secret, or at the very least he thought so. He didn't even know how to feel about all that secrecy anymore, either.

Halfway through the movie, Tifa excused herself as she needed to go to the bathroom and Cloud was left alone with the florist lady.

"You look like you have your head high in the clouds today." She said, calling him out of his thoughts. "Has anything happened?"

He sighed.

"I... went to see a friend but he shut me out... I don't know if I did something wrong… but I’m beginning to think I just did… maybe."

"Or maybe he just needs space but didn't know how to ask." Aerith offered. It sounded innocent, yet very wise. "Don't blame yourself too much over it. Sometimes you need to be away from someone so you can realize something. It's going to be alright, you'll see."

A bit of silence followed after he nodded, somehow more relieved with those words. However...

"Aerith?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had a secret that you wouldn't tell anyone but just one person?"

She hummed while thinking about it, then did a counting motion with her fingers, though she already knew how many those were.

"Yes... I have twenty three tiny secrets that I only told Zack about." The smile Aerith gave him was filled with nothing but honesty.

"...twenty three?! That much?" Blue eyes widened.

"Oh, but they're more like little wishes... except that I only told Zack. I had to write them down, actually. I don’t think he’d ever memorize them."

"But does a wish come true if you tell someone about it?"

She pondered for some long seconds.

"I don't know... but I'm getting help with some of them, so..."

Cloud smiled. _A wish, huh?_ At that moment, more than anything, he wanted the one winged angel to look for him when the man was ready to do so. The courier wished that would happen soon, for he so much missed his company — one that was worthy staying up for until some very inhuman hours. In all honesty, he didn't even know how he could stay up until so late and get to work every morning without causing an accident. He was about to ask Aerith if she had any experience with not knowing how to feel about a secret when their friend returned.

"Hey, what were you two up to when I was gone?" Tifa asked, sitting between them.

"What do you mean?" Aerith pretended to be confused, but it was obvious she wasn't as she was awfully close to giggling.

"Cloud is all smiles now!" The brunette pointed, unpausing the video.

The florist bursted into giggles, quickly followed by the young man. Tifa was feeling as though she were missing something there, the confusion clear on her face.

"It's a secret." Cloud finally explained. Though his childhood friend didn't know what it was about, she was just glad that he was smiling and laughing instead of that mood he was in before she left, as if he were depressed. Whatever Aerith told him certainly cheered him up somehow, so it was all good.

 

* * *

 

He lied on his bed, restless. That was the second night without the now casual walk to the Angel Square to be around Sephiroth. It felt sort of odd to just lie down, sleep and wait for another day of work that was ahead of him. It made the courier feel selfish for longing for that company, as while it'd make him feel better, would the angel be happy having the courier around? Cloud didn't know the answer to that question. He turned, trying to find a position that could him some comfort other than remembering Aerith's words from earlier.

It was raining that night and, while he loved to sleep with the sound of rain against his window, he was distressed by it. It should be snowing already, his mind told him, not raining. Then he was supplied with _Where does Seph go when it's raining?_ and it drove him even further away from sleeping. The feather on his nightstand, along with the delicate chain it was attached to, seemed to come into view with the lightning, the presence of it oddly unfitting for the moment.

In between rain drops, he heard a gentle knock against his window. _The wind, most likely,_ he thought. However, he heard it again, followed by the very characteristic sound of a... _wing?_ Cloud turned his head, quickly standing up with a gasp at the sight of silver hair and turquoise eyes on the other side of the glass.


	6. In Which Heavy Rain Falls And Many Things Are Shared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, it has been almost a month. (Life and writer block got in the way) But hey, here we are again as there's still quite a road to go with this.  
> Perharps a warning for characters talking about traumatic experiences? I don't know.

Cloud didn't even care that the rain was now coming inside his bedroom through the window as he opened it, hurrying the winged man inside the room as quiet as he could. Sephiroth was dripping wet, beads of water forming over the leather coat he wore and his hair completely soaked, the silver strands looking darker than usual with the weight of far too much water. The blond didn't mind that the slightest, neither did he care about closing the window too soon, not before knowing that the silver haired angel was inside his room and safe. The man said nothing, just stood there as though he didn't know what to do. Cloud motioned for him to keep quiet and sit down, the sudden remembrance of Tifa being downstairs filling the blond with an immediate sense of fear. What if she woke up? How could he even start to explain why there was a winged man in his room, dressed in leather and dripping wet? That, among other questions that he had no idea how to deal with. It would be certainly very messy if such a thing happened.

The courier left his room as quietly as he could, returning with a towel not much after that to find Sephiroth sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his own feet. The man had hidden the wing and taken his boots off, so his bare feet touched the floor. Though it was better than keeping them on, it was sort of worrisome to catch a glimpse of that sight, for the floor was probably cold, despite the heater being on.

Cloud put the towel around him, gently trying to dry the silver locks. Sephiroth was still quiet and while it was good because the blond was afraid of Tifa waking up, it was also very distressing. _Did he come here to stay quiet?_ The younger man wondered, worried, fingers working on the towel on the angel’s head, fast and almost automatically, but gently.

He’d have continued with that, hadn’t the silver haired man caught hold of his wrists, holding them almost too delicately and looking up at him through long eyelashes that were also wet from the rain. His eyes glowed in the dark like a cat’s, but the courier chose to ignore that to focus on how they looked sorrowful instead, on how they looked at him so intently. That was a look that was usually reserved for the moon and the stars above, one that Cloud usually caught with a side glance sometimes, but that he had never seen directly like that. Strangely enough, it was so intense a gaze that his breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat. Their eyes locked and for a moment it was just that, as though time had stopped, neither of them looking away or speaking at all.

Then Sephiroth tried to move closer to him, tried to stand up, still holding his wrists and keeping his hands in place.

However, the man interrupted himself, sitting down again. Turquoise eyes averted their gaze from Cloud’s blue orbs, the conflict visible in them, with a strong urge of staring again though the man denied it for being unable to understand it. He gave in, at last, but didn’t look at the blond as intensely as before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered “for threatening you the other day. I’m so sorry.” He hung his head, still apologetic, wanting Cloud to say something, anything. “I’m so sorry, Cloud.”

Once, a long time ago, a man of science clad in white taught him that it was normal procedure to apologize if a mistake was made towards someone. Though Gast’s words sounded invalid whenever Hojo and his team were concerned, for the many things they did to him that they never apologized for, it still made sense with the blond, who hadn’t done a single thing to hurt him in any way.

The courier knelt before him, the hands gripping his wrists tenderly following his movements but never letting go of him.

“Listen… this doesn’t change what happened and I still don’t know why you did that, so it doesn’t make it better… but I forgive you.” Cloud offered him a smile, so tiny it was nothing but a hint of that expression.

“I pointed a sword at you and I flew away.” Sephiroth simply said, in disbelief.

“You did, yeah. And it was truly scary, to be honest.”

“And you say you forgive me?”

The blond man nodded.

“I wouldn’t let you in if I didn’t. Besides… uh, I missed you.”

Sephiroth hesitated for a brief moment, unsure if he should say anything to that. People usually didn’t say they missed him. Nobody he knew in the past and not directly, at least. It felt weird to hear someone saying that to him. He released his grip, just to move his hands over Cloud’s, that had taken to resting lightly over the silver haired man’s knees. For some reason the man was amused at the way those hands almost disappeared under his own, due to the size difference. Cloud didn’t remove his hands and it was… weird, as Sephiroth was almost expecting he did. The fact that he didn’t, however, was very comforting and the angel didn’t even know why.

“I missed you, too.” He confessed. “But I— ...I thought something could happen to you if you kept visiting. I... wanted you to be away so you could remain safe. But… as you see, I couldn’t do it.” He couldn’t bear himself to just say how much it hurt not to have Cloud around, simply because he couldn’t understand the reason for that. The silver haired man had been a loner his whole life, so the feeling of loneliness wasn’t a foreign emotion for him. But something about not having the courier around intensified that feeling, he noticed. It made it worse, turned solitude into a pain he couldn’t shake away or ignore for long, and the only thing that could make it better was Cloud. He didn’t know why and didn’t like not knowing, but it was wiser and easier to surrender himself to the solution rather than fight a battle against himself that he couldn’t win.

The blond man stared at him, confused, then saw sorrow in those wintry, turquoise eyes. It was the sadness of someone that carried way too many losses within himself. He didn’t know what to say.

“A lot of people who I met before weren’t… kind. The very few who were… they— ...were taken away by forces I couldn’t fight against.” _Fate_ , his mind offered, as he gave Cloud that explanation. The angel felt no need of putting into words who those few good souls were, because it hurt and talking about it wouldn’t bring anybody back. It just wouldn’t give him Gast to comfort him whenever the tests and experiments happened. It wouldn’t also bring him the family he never had or the blissful moments he had when he, Genesis and Angeal sneaked into the training rooms to either cause havoc or to, dangerously, throw swords at apples placed atop of one of the three’s head.

Cloud was mouthing an apology for his losses, but stopped, looking into his eyes way too intently, as though examining him. That, too, felt weird.

“You were in SOLDIER.” The blond murmured. The way Sephiroth’s eyes glowed was just like the way the mako springs would glow in the mountain trails at night, back in Nibelheim. _Mako eyes_ , a trademark of anyone who was or had been in ShinRa’s famous military program. Then, Cloud realized something that made him shiver. "...Wait just a second—" He started, quietly, removing his hands from the man's knees — from the gentle grip they were under — the faster he could. Sephiroth eyed him, confused and slightly hurt all at once, not knowing what to do with those emotions.

The blond rose to his feet and moved to the closet nearby, opening it and searching... for something. It was impossible to tell what in the barely lit room, but he seemed to turn around with a poster. The angel could hear him murmuring "Oh my Gods" more than once. Sephiroth was now confused, hurt and unnerved by the lack of information. "Holy Odin, how—... how couldn't I notice?" Cloud murmured, followed by another "Oh my Gods".

"Seph, you were the guy in the SOLDIER program posters, how didn't I notice this... Gods." Cloud brought the poster closer to him and due to his enhancements he could see that it was a picture of himself in one of the common uniforms the firsts wore if they didn’t choose anything else, with a helmet that covered a great deal of his hair, allowing a low tied ponytail to hang behind him. It was from a time when firsts were still required to wear the default uniform for press pictures and publicity. Gods, that uniform looked particularly awful. “This will sound awkward, but… a few years ago I wanted to join SOLDIER because of you.”

Sephiroth felt his heart clench with a sensation akin to betrayal and the feeling that the blond would follow with questioning why he had left. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, as nobody knew how it was like to be there, with Hojo just around, monitoring him like a machine and never faltering in regards to his obsession with his… _prized monster_. “They rejected me, said I was too weak to be in SOLDIER.” The courier told him quietly, sitting beside him as though he were letting himself fall on the mattress. However, there wasn’t regret in those words, neither a longing for a goal never achieved. It was something said as matter of fact. There had been an attempt that never resulted in what was expected and it was alright. “And all I wanted to join the military for was to be stronger…” his voice went even quieter “...so everyone back there in my hometown would see me as a person and not as a problem.”

And even though the silver haired man despised ShinRa so much, he felt empathy, for he was alone after Gast, alone before Genesis and Angeal came across his life and lonely after that, until someone got his scarf stuck in his sword. The urge to belong, to be part of something bigger, but also to get recognition as _someone_.

“My apologies, but I have to say that I’m glad you never joined. While it really toughens someone, in a way, to be in the military, some of the things that happened there, in secrecy, would make you repulsed.” He never meant for the pain to slip out with those words, but it did anyway. And to his horror, he couldn’t take it back now that it was out.

Cloud eyed him with a side glance, even though it was impossible for him to know that with the towel still atop his head. And for a moment that seemed to last too long, none of them dared to utter a word or to make any sound other than breathing. Everything at night was always so quiet that even the slightest sound could be heard as being something too loud. The man listened to the sound of their breathing, not knowing what to say, amused by the fact that after a while they seemed to synchronize.

 _Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out_. A rhythm that was almost too relaxing given the awkwardness of the revelations made.

“Is that where the wing comes from? And the… curse? From whatever happened there?” The blond asked at last and though it broke the apparent silence between them, they were still breathing in unison. That made the silver haired man feel safer. Someone that wasn’t intimidated by him, _a friend_ , was breathing in time with him— or was it the other way around? _No_. They had fallen into a rhythm that didn’t belong to one or to the other. It was something that belonged to both of them, even though it wasn't much of a conscious choice they made. It just happened a while after the silence fell and Sephiroth was oddly fascinated by that, though it was something strange to admit.

“The wing, yes… something that I can’t recall was done to me — and to others — that gave me it. But not the curse… that came after I— well, deserted.” Beside him, the courier went dead silent, which had the angel turning his head to him. “You’d had left too, if you had spent almost your entire life in that company… with an insane man for a mentor and barely anyone you could trust.” He commented, almost too quietly.

Cloud could see himself in that man, somehow, even that he couldn't know the extension of the things that happened to him. The essence was the same of someone feeling loneliness in a crowded place, getting that feeling that the few who cared couldn't understand perfectly what it was like. And much to Sephiroth's surprise, he turned and hugged him, leveling himself properly so he could bury his face in the damp towel covering his feathered friend’s head. Neither of them dared to do much than just breathing, but the silver haired man led a hand up to stroke one of the courier's arms before turning into the embrace, resting his head against Cloud's shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. The towel was soon discarded and the younger man buried his face in the silver mess of hair atop his head instead. The blond didn't care that the floor was wet, or that both he and the bed were getting wet too. He didn't care that Sephiroth still felt cold from the rain, despite the heater being on.

After so long, he had found someone that understood what it was like to be in a place full of people and be able to feel so lonely that it hurt. He caressed the silver locks for a while longer, before letting go and sitting down again.

"You're right. I'd have left, too." The blond murmured.

"What was it like?" Sephiroth asked, almost too softly "Back in your hometown... if you don't mind me asking, that is. I don't know how it feels... I don't have a hometown."

"Now, Seph, don't be silly... everyone has a hometown. You just haven't been told about yours." He sighed, wondering just what kind of life the man beside him had been subjected to. "But, uh... it wasn’t that fun back in Nibelheim. When I was a child I saw Tifa heading out to the mountain trails one day and I went after her because I was afraid she could get hurt up there... and she did. I couldn't prevent it from happening. I got hurt, too, but in the end nobody even cared... everyone but my ma blamed me... as if it wasn't enough of them to hate on me or try to hurt me."

The one winged angel listened to him intently, relating to that oh, so well. _If you're useful, they're kind, if not you're just a problem, a failure to be addressed._

"Then those posters covered the town and... w-well..." Cloud faltered.

"You saw an escape route. I understand."

The blond nodded. At that time it seemed to be more than a mere escape route. It was a beam of light in the middle of a life of darkness and pain. It was… hope.

"You had a mother near you." Sephiroth hummed.

"You didn't?"

The man shook his head.

"I’ve never met my parents. I was told they'd died when I was too young and so did the only fatherly figure I had."

Cloud looked at him, a little unsure about what to say, before deciding himself. “I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“It’s… alright. It’s been a long time ago, anyway.” The man said, almost awkwardly. “I just wish my mentor wasn’t… the sort of person he was to me. It was quite _traumatic_.” He took a pause to let out a deep sigh. “I had two friends — though they had to leave at some point — but they’ve always had each other since they were children. I was lonely sometimes, despite it not being their fault, because they’ve always had their own past together and I was just… it felt strange to be around them once in a while.”

Both Angeal and Genesis had always eyed each other in a particular sort of way that he could tell as being different from the way they looked at him. There was certainly something almost surreal regarding that. (The way that they looked at one another as though they were seeking the other for some sort of support, even if they weren’t aware of it, a little light of trust akin to that of two people that knew each other for way too long or way too well… it was something that Sephiroth couldn’t be a part of, and he knew it, he knew he was the _different_ one in their little group, just like a red apple among Banora Whites. Again, it wasn’t their fault that whatever emotion it was — he couldn’t grasp what it was, for he had never experienced that feeling — that played in their eyes whenever their gazes accidentally met was a something that happened. They grew up together, they had their secrets and, after a little while, the silver haired man started keeping his own secrets from slipping away so easily. It worked as it kept the three of them from drifting away even further, until… that wing appeared on Genesis’ back and the realization that it was only a matter of time until he lost him and Angeal both hit him.) Sephiroth sighed again, then felt a hand on his shoulder that was oddly reassuring. He’d never truly lamented for their absence or talked to anyone about it once they were gone. Talking about that and thinking back on it made him feel strangely lighter.

“After they left and some time passed… there was a terrorist attack and I took the chance to… fly away from that place. I suppose, as nobody never came searching for me, that I was declared ‘Killed in Action’.”

Sephiroth made the mistake of turning his head to look at the courier, only to feel his heart clench with something in between fear and… _something else_ that he hadn’t experienced before at the very sight of sky blue eyes gazing into his own turquoise orbs in a way that was very familiar. The lightning outside made it more than clear for a brief moment.

 _Cloud was looking at him the exact same way his friends used to look at each other_.

It was terrifying because nobody had ever looked at him like that and he had always assumed that nobody ever would. _What did that mean, anyway?_ How was he supposed to react to that? The man had no time to come up with an answer to that, as the blond averted his gaze. If before he had no name for the way the courier was looking at him, now he had even less knowledge about the way the younger man was avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“We’re… somehow alike.” Sephiroth tried. “We were in places where we didn’t feel like we belonged.”

“Yeah,” Cloud agreed, awkwardly “but we’re fine now, aren’t we? Except for, well… your curse. I wish I could help with that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t even know how to break it… I’d let you help me, if I knew.”

Sephiroth sighed. No potion or remedy could cure that ailment for some reason, probably because his condition wasn’t supposed to ever exist in the first place, for all he had learned. He wasn’t slowed, petrified, paralyzed or anything of the sort. The man was, simply enough, stone during the day and completely alright during the night, though his urges were drastically reduced. Whenever the sun shone, it felt like sleeping but with no means of doing so at all. He felt well rested, though he couldn’t close his eyes all day long. Being unable to move but still feeling alive was the very uncomfortable part of it that he didn’t like dealing with.

“Does it hurt?” The blond asked, his voice sounding as though he were about to yawn “Being a statue during the day?”

He hesitated without knowing why.

“More emotionally than physically. But I’ve realized that such wounds can be healed with some good company and new, good memories. I can say that I appreciate you visiting me… it helps.”

Though the silver haired man couldn’t tell, for he had stopped looking at Cloud, the shorter man was smiling. “I’m glad it helps… I like visiting you, too.” The courier’s eyes felt heavier as time passed. He eventually fell into an almost complete silence, his head gently leaning against Sephiroth’s shoulder. The taller man didn’t mind that at all. It even felt strangely comfortable, somehow.

Cloud would wake up the following morning to find out he had been properly tucked into the bed. The angel, however, was nowhere to be found. (And so was the rain outside). When blue eyes caught a glimpse of the feather on the nightstand, the blond man became startled, any signs of sleepiness leaving him almost instantly. Sunlight shone over black softness, at least until he blinked, for when he opened his eyes again the spell was broken and all he saw was a stone. Maybe his eyes played a trick on him, for wishing so badly for the man to be free from that curse, and what he saw for no more than a second or two was nothing but an illusion.

But perhaps, it was a sign of hope. _Maybe_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Somewhere among the emails in Crisis Core, it's mentioned that the three Firsts liked to sneak in the training room to... _practice aim_ by trying to hit dumbapples placed on each other's heads... with their swords (Talk about a dangerous sport). There was something about Sephiroth always winning that, too. Just imagine the Masamune being thrown, all those feet of sword flying neatly in the air and hitting a dumbapple without hurting anyone involved. Woah!  
>  \- And this was a thing I just remembered recently, but the original game hadn't Curse as a status ailment. There was an attack named Curses that inflicted some other ailment (I think Stop?) and the Curse (or Cursed?) Ring, that didn't inflict Curse at all, but a death countdown (ouch). Curse in Crisis Core prevented the DMW from rolling, making it... static. Yeah. It makes Sephiroth's condition in this a complete anomality, unable to be cured by using Remedy or something like that, so it was a very fitting accident, heh.


	7. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love is like falling and flying at the same time. You feel up in the lift off but you fall down with the wind.  
> [\- A.M.](http://boardofwisdom.com/togo/Quotes/ShowQuote/?msgid=495706#.VYCK3ivF98E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the sweet sound of update after that announcement yesterday, oh yes. The sound of remake, yes!
> 
> On another hand, funny enough, it's officially winter where I live... what an interesting coincidence, hm.
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for following this up thus far~ (I'm going to move that rating up, just in case... things might start spiralling down)

Tifa didn’t know what had happened to him, but she was sure that something certainly did, as the blond lifted her off the floor in a hug once he wandered into the kitchen in the morning, spinning her around before settling her back down and going to sit on one of the stools, so she could go back to cooking them some breakfast — as the brunette was doing, just before the completely unexpected interruption. Tifa was completely confused, eyeing her friend quite suspiciously. Cloud, on another hand was thankful she didn’t try to punch him at that sudden move, as she had too much strength in those fists of hers.

“Cloud, what the hell was that?”

His smile and the way his bright blue eyes were practically sparkling enlightened the place in a way that was even more effective than any flower Aerith could bring them as a gift. The blond was so happy — she liked the way he was smiling, it was better than having him all worried and filled by sadness — but not knowing the reason behind that mood of his was driving her curiosity to its peak.

“I had such a nice dream.” Even Cloud’s voice was lighter than usual. It was like as though he had found one million gil lying around. It was overwhelming and very contagious, as Tifa was getting happier as well because of his cheerfulness.

(She couldn’t recall seeing him so happy like that, not even back there when they were children living on the countryside. It felt… _strange_ , though it was good.)

“Hm? What was it about?” The brunette asked.

“I dreamed that an angel had swept me off my feet and took me to fly for a while.”

And though that was true, it wasn't the main reason why Cloud was happy. But of course, he wouldn't tell her about Sephiroth, neither about how his winged friend came back to clarify that he wasn't angry at him, despite the way he acted the other day. He wouldn't say a word about sharing some things from the past — which, he noticed, seemed somehow traumatic for Sephiroth to talk about, maybe a subject to be approached with caution — neither that the man apparently tucked him in before leaving. The blond wouldn't mention the way those turquoise eyes glowed somewhat faintly in his barely lit bedroom or that the silver haired man used to be in SOLDIER.

He wouldn't say that he dreamed of a cursed angel being able to fly in plain daylight and that Sephiroth seemed so happy with the sight of white clouds drifting away in the breeze, so high in the blue sky, while carrying him along in his flight.

The courier couldn't bear to think that the man was, however, still cursed, probably static like stone at that time in the morning. He was trying to focus on the fact that his friend had returned, that it was alright to visit him and that he had a pleasant dream, rather than on thinking he had no idea about how he could lift that curse, if he could do it, that is.

(But he wished he could do it, break whatever spell that was.)

Even though he was smiling, somewhere behind that cheerful mood Cloud's happiness was faltering. If he wasn't so happy, he'd have already given in to that feeling of powerlessness from being unable to protect a friend, a ghost from what happened to Tifa in the past edging towards him, almost maliciously, from the shadows.

 _No_ , he thought. _Stay where you belong... in my memories. The ones I don't want to remember right now_.

The haunting feeling that Sephiroth was in as much danger as the brunette had been when she fell, back there in Nibelheim, not waking up for several days, followed suit, hiding behind happier thoughts. _Good_.

He was so busy with his thoughts that he barely heard Tifa saying “Well… yeah, that’s something really good to dream about” with a smile coloring her face.

Besides the blond’s happiness and a brief exchange — though it was mostly Cloud who was talking — about how life would be life if any of them had wings, breakfast was almost like the usual, with the phone ringing a while after it was over, pulling the courier out of the comfort of that house to work. Fenrir’s engine roared as he turned the motorcycle on, checking the addresses again before leaving.

The thing with delivering was that, while some days he’d just drop packages and other things around the city, during days like that one he would have to take a box all the way to a certain chocobo farm. That wasn’t like driving to the neighbor city, Edge, which usually took one hour and a half if he was lucky. It was a long trip, — making it the only delivery of that day — the kind that took him across large open fields and running groups of wild chocobos along the way, but completely worth it, for the sense of freedom that came along with racing like that, away from the city and against the wind at a high speed.

For some reason it made him wonder what the sensation of flying was like.

 

* * *

 

Falling was something thrilling.

It was a lot like flying, though it usually lacked the effort of it, as if he were giving up and letting himself go to a more cold, hard and permanent destination just below. A wingbeat and the word to associate with what he was doing, high in the evening sky, would change completely. Spiralling down was certainly part of the fall, while soaring back up afterwards was definitely more like flying. It was too fast, too smooth a transition that the moment in between diving effortlessly and working his way upwards again was basically forgotten, unnoticed. The winged man wondered if there was even a name for that split second of neither falling nor flying, so terribly short but no less important than the movement of the dark wing on his back. If something were to happen at that precise moment that prevented him from rising again, he’d simply meet the public square’s ground, — or worse, hit a tree or a bench — probably leading to severe injuries. It could be fatal, then, to let himself fall like that. However, the silver haired angel still took every opportunity he could to do so.

 _Dive, feel the fall, rise skyward_.

But that very word, _falling_ , could be used for other situations that weren’t akin to flying. It could be applied to the orange, sometimes brown, leaves that couldn’t stay in their trees and made their way to the ground because they couldn’t be kept in the winter or to the black feathers that weren’t necessary to his wing anymore and did the same as a leaf would, once its time had come. It could be the mere transition from a reality to another.

However, thus far Sephiroth always thought that the action of falling was noticeable, even with that subtle moment between an initial state and the fall itself that brought the two different actions closer, the split second that went unnamed in his mind. He didn't realize that the transition point between two things could blend them too well to the point of it being almost impossible to know where the fall started.

It was like he had been looking at a tree but didn't notice the effect that the autumn had on it, the wind taking browned leaves away from numerous branches until there were none left. And upon noticing, it felt as though he was looking at lively green for one second and at naked branches the next. But it was also like something had grown in the meanwhile without him noticing and it was scary, for he didn't know how to deal with that. It was like driving in the darkness of a night without the moon and noticing the crash that was about to happen right before it, but too late to dodge a wild chocobo that was crossing the road just that moment. Or walking around with closed eyes and having one of those yellow birds run into him.

(And Cloud, whose hair was a lot like the feathers covering the head of a chocobo, had definitely run into him, didn’t he? The courier with sunlight kissed locks and eyes as blue as the sky in a day of clear weather; a scarf around his pale neck matching his irises, as it was mid-autumn and the temperature was dropping to guide the remaining of the season into the upcoming winter. The one who was tricked by the breeze one fateful afternoon, just as that day turned into evening, and got his scarf stuck in a very long sword, unable to free it and go away. Cloud, who stayed after that, called him by a nickname Sephiroth usually hated and made it sound harmless, somewhat warm. The only person that knew he was alive and wasn’t just another angel statue in a public square of a very convenient name, who returned after the first evening too many times that the silver haired man had lost count. The blond who looked at the winged man with such an exquisite gaze that struck him with the realization that, oh Gaia, he was falling so hard without even noticing, that it was because of that simple yet complicated fact that the shorter man’s absence hurt so bad, even though Sephiroth’s mind kept telling him that if the younger man stayed too close and opened the doors holding dark secrets of a troubled past, he was fated to meet an undesired end. And the courier was so kind, he needed to be kept safe, protected.

Cloud, who clearly wanted to break that curse but didn’t know how.)

Nobody had ever properly explained to Sephiroth what that kind of fall felt like, falling for someone, — what was the word Genesis liked to use when he was gossiping about other SOLDIER operatives? — _crushing_ on someone. He was introduced to the concept of love, only in theory, after being practically dragged around by the redhead and Angeal to the very first presentation of the play for LOVELESS. Professor Hojo thought that it was completely unnecessary to teach him about certain sorts of emotions — _Serves as nothing but interference for those in your field_ , he clarified with harsh coldness — and thus, the silver haired young man sat to listen to neatly recited poetry about the subject; that is, until Angeal realized that Genesis took it so far to the point of flirting with their younger friend and broke into a serious, clear and neat explanation himself.

( _“It’s when you… like someone so deeply that they take a special place right there”, he pointed at Sephiroth’s chest, “and you long to be with or around them because their company is more than merely enjoyable. It’s when someone becomes more than… just a friend. But well, you’ll simply know when you feel it.” The redhead’s jaw had nothing but dropped, as though the man had just unveiled some passwords to get into ShinRa’s top secret files._ )

He had to be also explained about what exactly those two scientists in the 49th floor’s training room were doing when, one afternoon, the innocent general walked into the room to the sight of naked bodies moving together and the sound of ragged breathing, and walked out upon noticing the embarrassment — he was disconcerted with that as well. Somehow, the other two Firsts filled the gap resulting from the lack of a family regarding those subjects, pampered the younger First with all the information that was necessary.

 _Gods, he missed them_.

However, in the end, even though Genesis stole a few kisses from him when they got drunk after a particular mission — Banora, someone in the village was so grateful to their efforts that gave them a few bottles of cider — and despite losing himself inside a somewhat shorter Third on a certain occasion, — due to the heat of the moment — he hadn’t experienced the feeling of love, that romantic attraction to someone… _until, of course, Cloud appeared_.

 _It really did feel like falling... and it was scary_.

It was like diving towards the ground below without any control. What was he supposed to do with that emotion? Was there a protocol for that, of which he had absolutely no knowledge about? It made the man wonder if he could just put that feeling back and carry on as usual, keeping it a secret from the blond. But as much as he thought, Cloud had looked at him in such a way that made his bright blue eyes almost shine and the one winged angel didn’t know what to do anymore.

Unlike the dive he took before landing gracefully on that square, that was a fall that felt like it wouldn’t stop so easily, so smoothly.

 

* * *

 

It had gotten so cold through the day that, by the time Cloud was leaving again, he needed to put on another layer of clothes. However, despite doing so, the fact that a chilly breeze kept blowing wasn’t helping him very much and neither did the wind that messed with blond spikes of hair and lifted the ends of his scarf, once he had gotten to the square to witness the silver haired man land, the dark wing behind him giving a last, almost delicate flap.

“Well, hello to you, too.” The blond said, a little sarcastically and wrapping his arms around himself, which made the winged man chuckle.

“Sorry for the wind. You were awfully perfect timed.”

Sephiroth sat on the bench they usually shared, silently inviting the shorter man to sit as well. It was as though the courier were visiting him in his house, instead of the public square, which felt… weird. Cloud sat by his right, appreciating the wing curling around him as its presence brought more warmth — almost too much warmth — and blocked the breeze.

Little did he know that the gesture was more than what it seemed to be.

Above them, the moon hid behind some clouds, the silver light it cast almost disappearing. It was funny, especially because the winged man could relate to it. The nights in which the moon could be seen were the same in which fewer stars could be noticed and yet that the latter were still there somewhere, it was like the satellite was lonely, except by the clouds that often passed in front of it. He could almost entertain the thought that they were keeping it company, even though it was for a little while.

“You’re a little too distant today, aren’t you?” The blond commented, bringing the man back from his mass of thoughts.

“The moon seems to have some company tonight” was the only response that came from Sephiroth, who was smiling softly. It sounded cryptic, despite being almost too innocent, with a hint of something else hiding behind the words that Cloud couldn’t quite recognize. The courier edged towards the man to peek from behind the wing. There were too many clouds, he thought. Maybe it would rain again… or perhaps it would snow, as it seemed to be cold enough for that. He eventually moved back to hide behind the black feathers once more, though he turned to stare at the silver haired man with a puzzled look.

“By the way, you have a feather on your hair and it’s not one of my own. Are you growing feathers instead of hair now, Cloud? Please don’t tell me you’re going to become a chocobo one of these days…”

He made the blond laugh with that. It was a very pleasant sound that made something within the winged man lighten up, even though it also felt as if the gravity was playing a cruel trick on him and pulling him down while keeping his head up there in the clouds covering the moon. Sephiroth didn’t feel like he needed to be freed from his curse if he could have that in a daily basis.

“Can you get it out, please?”, the younger managed, between giggles. Once the feather was visible to him, with the other man turning it around on his gloved hand trying to examine it, the courier explained it. “I had to deliver something to a chocobo farm and uh… chocobos can become very _friendly_ if you feed them the greens they like the best.”

Some time passed in silence, as Sephiroth was still trying to understand that feather, just the precise same color of the blond’s hair and smaller than his own black ones. Once he got tired of observing it, what came out of his mouth was a question.

“Have you ever ridden one? A chocobo, I mean.”

“Hm, yes. Haven’t you?”

The man shook his head in denial.

“They don’t like me. No matter what I feed them, they’ll either attack or run away from me.”

Cloud's jaw dropped. He couldn't think of anyone he had met before that had such a tough time with those birds. Chocobos were shy, docile yet afraid. They wouldn't attack unless they were attacked first, but by the look the man has offered, he wasn't the kind that would harm a creature which hadn't harmed him.

"Maybe you didn't find the right one yet." The blond tried. There was just quiet humming and then deep silence in response to it as the angel had, once again, become thoughtful. The courier sighed, devoting himself to dark feathers, stroking and preening them. “Aren’t you going to catch a cold, dressed like that?” He finally dared to ask, pointing to where the coat that Sephiroth wore left part of his chest bare.

He didn’t know how very warm the silver haired man felt, and not just because of the mako flowing in his body, within his blood, but also because of the pleasant company.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” _Worry about yourself. Why did you come out with this weather, while your body isn’t properly enhanced to endure it the way mine is? Why do you keep being this gentle? Why must you make it this difficult to avoid falling for you even further?_

 _Lying. Hiding. Not fine_.

A snowflake spiralled in its fall from the sky, quiet and unnoticed, but surely followed by another, and another, and another. It was too cold for them to dissolve into rain. They started almost shyly, silently falling until they were too many to miss. Winter had definitely come after so long. Not that any of them were excitedly looking forward for the snowing part of it, but that just confirmed that it was there at last and that autumn was long gone, a dead weight left behind.

( _“Remember,” he murmured to himself that time when he went back to his quarters, pride wounded even further — if that was possible — and blood sliding down his back in slow rivulets, staining the cloth covering it in deep and wet red “that seasons pass and that one day you’ll soar through blue skies, blessed by warm, golden sunlight, somewhere away from this hell… away from Midgar and ShinRa.” Usually it would be Angeal to reassure him that everything was going to be fine, if only he knew about the things that Hojo did. Oh, that scientist. Damn him and what he assumed to be Science. “Remember that one day he’s going to die and the world will be freed from his obnoxious existence. Remember that.”_ )

“It’s snowing.” The voice that came from his side, colored by that unmistakable accent, stated cheerfully.

_The seasons had indeed passed, hadn’t they?_

“It really is, yes.”

( _“Remember that when that day comes, you’re going to be happy, at last.”_ )


	8. Unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a traumatic flashback is triggered and too many awkward things unravel along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this one took too long, oh God... but hey, here we go.  
> A major warning for Hojo... being himself (which means there's gonna be some torture and stuff will get somewhat gory in there) and for the resulting effects of that, which include some panic inducing trauma. Also the fact that Sephiroth's wing is _very sensitive_ close to the point where it meets his back in such a particular way may have its own controversies, oh well. (I have no idea whether or not it may count as a trigger warning for sexual assault, but yeah, one could get such an interpretation from it, so here. Warning for that as well.)  
>  I didn't feel right leaving the rating on T after I thought of the plot for this chapter and that's why it went up to M, for safety measures.  
> I was hoping to update like, very, very earlier, but oh God, this whole chapter... enjoy it, maybe?

Even though the two of them enjoyed watching the snow as it fell, it was a mutual agreement that Cloud would catch a cold from being outside with such a temperature for so long, even if the blond curled closer to him and despite the taller man curling his wing tighter around the trembling mess the other had become in what seemed to be a short time for him. But then again, Sephiroth was enhanced with mako and whatever else that gave his body enough strength to endure the chilly weather as one would go through a sunny day. (He couldn’t bring himself to believe he had only the green substance flowing within his blood making him different from other people. Nobody he had ever met had silver hair at his age and no one in SOLDIER had slit pupils like a cat’s. And last but not least, nobody else except Genesis and Angeal had a wing of their own. However, from the little he had seen, the redhead seemed to be sick after manifesting the appendage, as though he were rejecting it. No such thing happened to the silver haired man. There had to be something else other than mako and, whatever it was, he probably had way too much of it and wasn’t made sick by it at all, for reasons unknown. The thought made him feel odd, but it couldn’t be helped.)

So, after a nice walk — with the courier doing his best to stay under the warmth of those dark feathers — they were at the blond’s place, and with quiet, discreet movements, Sephiroth found himself standing in Cloud’s room for a second time, due to an invitation that was stuttered out at him when they were still outside. The silver haired man started undoing his coat in front of a hanger, quite bothered by the snow that managed to make its way inside it (not because of the temperature, but rather the feeling of something wet — yet different from water in a particular way — like that sliding down along his body while he was still dressed), but stopped, remembering his own whereabouts. He turned his head just enough to be able to look at the blond. It was probably better to ask.

“Will you be uncomfortable if I... take my coat off?”

Cloud looked at him with confused bright blue eyes, as though he thought he hadn’t heard it properly. It shouldn’t be so troublesome, especially considering that the coat already was somewhat revealing. In all honesty, the courier didn’t think that could bother him at all.

“Uh, no… not at all. Make yourself at home, I guess?”

He complied, returning his attention to it and sliding that piece of clothing off, revealing a backside scarred from war, from various battles he had fought throughout the years. One scar in particular ran down along his right shoulder blade. It got the blond worrying himself by thinking about how the black wing could come out from there, curiosity screaming loudly enough in his mind for him not to listen to reason and approach the other man, reaching out a hand to experimentally touch that almost thin line. Sephiroth was still busy trying to rid his coat from melting snow to notice anything until it was too late.

Everything was good until that one gentle touch.

The courier had to dodge the flurry of dark feathers that came out in reaction to that brief contact of fingers against skin. The wing closed tightly as its owner turned abruptly, coat long forgotten on the floor, moving away as fast as he could from the blond. His eyes were widened and alert with sheer terror and Cloud didn’t know what to make out of that reaction at all.

“I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have—” But even though he tried to apologize, it didn’t calm the other man down. The angel kept moving away backwards, keeping those turquoise orbs of his fixed on the courier all the time, as if the shorter man would try to do something that would hurt him, as though that touch had been like a knife trying to press into his skin. Eventually his back met the cold wood of the wardrobe’s door and he was forced to stop there, giving in to the shivers that prevented him from staying perfectly still. His breaths were coming out in ragged, desperate pants that he couldn’t assume any control of. Sephiroth kept trying to uselessly hide the wing behind him by keeping it closed as tightly as it was possible and failing at doing so just made his situation worse.

“...Seph?” Cloud tried, sounding so hesitant, so afraid of making things even worse, that he could barely be heard. However, the man didn’t hear him behind the mess of thoughts unraveling in his head. Anything else apart from panic was like a blur and he couldn’t put anything together, not like this.

The blond twitched a little as though he were about to approach, which led the silver haired man to reach for the dark wing with his left hand, trying to keep it in place, attempting to keep it safe even if it would have sounded absurd if he wasn’t panicking like that because… the courier wouldn’t hurt him, would he? The younger man was kind, maybe one of the best people he’d ever met, there was no way Sephiroth could be harmed by him, or at least he supposed it was the case. However, his mind kept whispering to him all the things that happened the last time someone had touched that spot  — or rather, grazed it while holding his wing _—_  in a way that made the angel feel nothing but fear, terror in the worst way possible.

_It’s going to happen again. Please… no, not again… stop, stop, stop, stop—_

“N-no… don’t…” He stuttered, and stumbling over his own words was something that Sephiroth had been conditioned to fear. It showed nothing but weakness, a trait that wasn’t expected from someone who was meant to be so important to the army like he used to be. It just made him even more terrified. His knees were too weak from trembling that standing up against the wardrobe was too much an effort. He let go, then, allowed himself to slide his way to the floor, encasing himself in his own wing like a cocoon and closing his eyes tightly.

It was completely awful, as he could almost taste the excruciating pain, smell the blood and components from a laboratory that he intended to never return to, feel the misery and sheer absence of any hope eating his sanity away.

Sephiroth just couldn’t stop shivering.

 

* * *

 

He could have pushed Hojo away from him, but he never did. The reason behind it was that he had been pressed onto one of the laboratory’s tables, the feeling of cold metal against his chest making him more than simply uncomfortable, the wing behind him being practically twisted by a calloused hand that allowed no mistakes, and tried to address _failures_ as the Professor saw fit. The older man was stronger than it seemed, at least strong enough to cause as much pain as that, pushing him down with one hand and torturing the appendage with the other.

Sephiroth could have escaped, given that the scientist hadn’t been holding his wing by its base and turning it forcefully like that. That wasn’t painful as it’d be if the man were twisting his arm. It was way worse. The particular point that the persistent hand was pressing on felt… _strange_ to the softest of the touches, let alone that amount of pressure being applied there. It felt utterly _wrong_ , as though Hojo were touching _somewhere else_ against his will. He just wanted that to stop happening, but the hand wouldn’t let go of the feathered limb and that excruciating pain didn’t seem like it’d would stop any time soon. It was hurting so much that it stole the silver haired man from his energy.

He had been careless while arguing with the raven haired man after a routine check up. Their arguments kept growing gradually worse and worse since the day Angeal and Genesis left, but that had been the last straw.

( _“You know, you could just quit SOLDIER and devote yourself to Science instead. You’d make a fine sample, maybe the perfect one.”_ )

That was certainly the wrong time and place to allow that wing to act on its own accord, to lose control. A mistake of one split second and all he could taste, then, was unbearable pain. His breathing became desperate panting as he was being held down like that then, struggling helplessly but drained of strength because of the way he was forced down onto that table.

“I’m not letting you become a defective monster like Hollander’s creations, boy. You’ll cooperate, or else…”

The words barely registered, almost a blur in his ears, because there had been a snap, followed by a sharp cry. Hojo had succeeded in breaking his wing. The pain was too much that any other person would’ve fainted by now, but Sephiroth was aware at this point that he was anything but normal. Sometimes he doubted he was even human, especially when the scientist used that word.

( _“You little monster! Look at what you did to my reports, the table, all burned. Out of my laboratory, now!”_ )

It was a mistake to ever think that it would stop at that.

The touch of tool he couldn’t see was light at first, cold like the metal table beneath him, but soon grew as insistent as that hand’s grip and it was just as bad, if not worse. It worked its way through skin and then flesh. Maybe Sephiroth would lose his voice from the way he was screaming, wishing for someone, anyone to just come and free him from that torment. Hojo’s laboratory, however, was not only known for the screams after the first hours of the evening but was also on one of the lowest floors of the building (almost the basement), meaning that nobody would come to save him.

The silver haired man didn’t have to guess why he felt something wet and warm on his back either. He had no energy to even think about the blood leaving him, honestly. Perhaps he would black out soon. But he didn’t, for his body insisted that he had to remain alert because there was danger, even that it was costly to stay conscious.

It seemed to last forever, each second of it simply agonizing, and at some point he thought that the older man was laughing at him, but he couldn’t tell. Staying awake was already troublesome enough, let alone staying focused.

When he was about to give up, to dive into unconsciousness, he saw a sea of black through half lidded eyes, blurry with tears and his last realization then was that Hojo was holding his severed wing in front of him while saying something he couldn’t grasp.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, buddy… it’s alright, it’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you… I, uh…” Cloud wanted to offer him more comfort than just words, but that meant that he needed to find a way to slip under the wing to hug the silver haired man, but if one single touch had done that, it’d certainly be worse to keep touching him.

“Seph?” The blond kept trying. “I’m sorry," the feathered cocoon slowly stopped trembling, then "it's not gonna happen again, alright? You're safe, it's alright now."

He had to duck to avoid the wing that moved to reveal the man underneath. Anxious turquoise eyes stared at the blond, as if they were seeking confirmation of that fact, as though there was doubt about that for a moment, before averting their gaze. “I… panicked.” Sephiroth explained, unsure about what he should say after that.

The silence stretched then, like an awkward and lazy feline choosing to lie down on a very inappropriate place. Cloud tried to move from where he was to sit beside the other man and away from the wing, but he was given a look and it surely wasn’t one that acknowledged that choice as being good at that moment. Despite all the concern to avoid touching that appendage again, the courier sat down near it, only to be somewhat surrounded by black feathers. The absence of sound that was still there along with a somewhat heavy feeling was almost disturbing, but then again, it was hard to wake up a cat so long lost into a deep slumber, even if it was that bothersome.

_Great. Now there would be questions_.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… done that without asking if I could, I—” A heavy sigh and blue eyes turned to him, their owner trying to find the right words but failing and turning away. “Sorry.”

Cloud may have panicked, too, from witnessing the silver haired man panic, though not so intensely. It was the guilt of doing something wrong on impulse and not knowing if he could do something to fix that one mistake. He couldn’t take it back and it was most likely his fault. (Maybe it was the trauma from Nibelheim, from being blamed for something that could’ve been prevented, or so he thought.) There was a need for apologies like an umbrella was important if there would be rain.

“It’s not your fault.” Sephiroth said, before any other apologies could take place.

“But I made you panic—”

“You just triggered the reaction. I didn’t panic because of you, but rather because I remembered something… intensely unpleasant from the past. Besides, there was no way you could've known that. But you’re forgiven, anyway.”

The blond fidgeted, not knowing what to do. Of course, he could ask about that experience, but at the same time it felt a bit like opening a freshly healed wound just to poke it, which sounded really cruel in his head.

“You want to ask about it, don’t you?” Cloud turned his attention to the man almost immediately. _Was it that obvious_? "You weren't... fidgeting before."

The courier considered it for a while longer before reaching a decision.

"...What happened to you?"

It felt strange, wanting someone to know about that. But at the same time, there was a person that cared just beside him, — a friend, one that was valuable in so many ways — sounding concerned even though he had no knowledge of such events. The question of how the blond would react lingered, however. But, of course, there was only a way to know that.

"It was a little while after I learned I had a wing. I... couldn't control it very well, so one day I got worked up in the wrong place and time... and—" He averted his gaze and closed his eyes. It had sounded easier in his mind to say that. Thankfully, there was no _And?_ forcing him forward. "The man who used to be my mentor, he... pushed me onto a table and cut it out... then held it out so I could—…” His stomach turned uncomfortably. “It grew up again somehow and I became more careful about it, but... well, you saw the reaction yourself."

Maybe it was like a lizard’s tail, if one were to spare a thought about it, being able to grow back once damaged like that. Perhaps not quite like that, but it was still a close enough comparison to make, especially considering that the second wing wasn’t exactly the same as the first one. It was easier to control, to keep it from appearing at unsolicited times. Perhaps it was even stronger and larger than it was before.

The things that didn’t kill usually had that effect as he overcame then. Either that or said things would seek revenge, search for any means of hurting him again or else leave a mark deep inside that could be triggered.

The moment Sephiroth opened his eyes again was to find the blond sobbing against the black feathers, hiding his face in the wing. The taller man didn’t know how to react to that, mostly due to the fact that he didn’t have the social skills to comfort someone properly. In all honesty, he just wondered what exactly had made the courier cry. However, even Cloud himself didn’t know the reason behind those tears, other than the feeling that what he had been told was so terribly wrong, so deeply undeserved.

(The only reason the silver haired man cried that day was because of the excruciating pain of having a limb ripped off the way it happened. He hadn’t had the energy to mourn the loss of that wing at the time. And yet…)

“Cloud?”

Would it be alright to pull the courier into his arms? Maybe run his fingers through blond spikes until there were no more tears for the shorter man to cry. It felt strange as he wanted to do something but didn’t know if his actions would be welcomed in a good manner.

“I— I’m sorry… sorry, I just...” He tried, but didn't know how to put that feeling into words. What could he say anyway? That he felt pained just from the sound of it? That he wished he'd been there to prevent it from ever happening, to protect that man from such a fate? No matter what, there was no way things could be changed, anyway.

Perhaps, if Cloud were to think of it in a selfish way, the fact that such cruelty had taken place was one of the reasons that led not just to their meeting but also to that exact moment; the one winged angel sitting on the floor in front of that wardrobe beside a crying mess that couldn't even fix the current situation of that _damn_ curse, didn't even know how to break it, even though he wanted to do so, almost desperately. It was more than proving to himself that he could protect someone, it was actually about bringing back light to someone who had only been seeing darkness for a long time, and being unsure if that was possible made his heart clench with emotions he couldn't name.

The blond felt fingers going through his hair, offering some gentle, yet awkward comfort. He turned around and buried his face in the other man's shoulder with a heavy sigh. That didn't calm the sobbing, however. It worsened when both a pair of arms and the wing tightened around him, a whispered “I know, I know” being the only thing uttered other than too many choked out apologies.

And not even once Sephiroth had the heart to tell him to just stop at once because it broke him inside to listen to those little crying noises. No, he couldn't bear to be that selfish.

Eventually, all the sobbing became almost too quiet sighs and Cloud's breathing evened out to a relaxing, practically lovely pace.

Oh well, it was time for the winged man to leave for the remaining of that night, then.

 

* * *

 

Tifa was never the kind of person to eavesdrop on people she knew, despite the many opportunities she had to do that. But it was a completely different case when she was standing in the kitchen late at night, just about to get a glass of water, wearing very comfortable pajamas and cozy slippers, and heard a loud noise cut the silence with terrifying efficiency. It sounded like a very large bird, by the sound of the rustling feathers. She approached the stairs. After a while there were voices too, one of them definitely Cloud’s, but the other completely unknown to her.

He hadn’t told her he’d have a guest for the night.

It all clicked in the strangest of the ways, leaving her oh, so confused. They were friends since both of them were children. Hel, they lived together now, so why did the blond need to be so secretive about bringing some company home? Didn’t he trust her? Or worse, did he know she liked (or at least used to like) him?

The brunette didn’t know how to feel about that, neither stayed to hear the conversation that might have been taking place behind Cloud’s door. No, she didn’t want to overthink about his trust in her as a friend, even though that a part of her was practically screaming for her to know what was going on there, longing for the answer to that one question. ( _Why would him bring someone home in secrecy?_ )

Tifa did nothing but return to her bedroom quietly, her glass of water long forgotten on the kitchen table. However, she couldn’t sleep. The sounds of rustling paper filled her room as she opened her copy of LOVELESS and read it to distract herself from the uneasy feeling that there might be something wrong with whoever the courier chose to bring home (and that also there could be a bird in his room at that time too).

She fell asleep with the book close to her chest, by the beginning of the intermission following the second act, the interpretation of that edition that tied up closely with the play.

_(“Though the prisoner escapes, he is gravely wounded_

_His life is saved, however_

_By a woman of the opposing nation”)_

The brunette was still worried, of course, however she always had been the kind of person that would fall into a deep slumber quickly if the right conditions were provided. A comfortable bed and the warmth of the heater, along with her eyes growing tired from reading seemed to do the trick just nicely.


	9. Of Hyperactive Puppies and Angst Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud realizes something he took long enough to notice about himself and a cheerful Zack Fair makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after what, eight chapters, I finally named the town they are in. Hati comes from the [son of Fenrir](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hati_Hr%C3%B3%C3%B0vitnisson), who's said to chase the moon across the night sky. It seemed just fitting with the amount of things that happen during the night in this fic. Hati as a town is a little bigger than Nibelheim and stands between Midgar and Edge (which exists not as a town for Meteorfall survivors, as there's no Meteor in this case, but as some sort of a commercial town, an expansion from Midgar that's not geographically linked to it.)
> 
> A brief thanks to [FalseAngel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseAngel) ([rp-cloud](http://rp-cloud.tumblr.com)) for easing my paranoid side by beta reading this chapter. And another brief thanks to [apati_a](http://archiveofourown.org/users/apati_a) for somehow having an idea blossom from the comments of the last chapter.
> 
> And I have no idea how this chapter turned longer than usual, but I guess this is a bonus. (Fun fact: There would be even more, but I decided to cut it out and put it in the next one so it wouldn't turn out so terribly longer than the previous chapters.)
> 
> Now, allow me to leave you all to this chapter. Enjoy~

There was an old tale often told in Nibelheim about weeping angels. They were usually a sign that death was just around the corner, their tears a symbol of regret for so many lives taken away. It was mostly believed that they were envoys of Hel and that anyone should avoid seeing them or else death wouldn't be gentle and peaceful. A version of the story was often used to get kids to behave, though it also terrified them as well. ( _Be good or the angel of Hel will come for you_.)

But the reason why Cloud felt his heart sink in his chest wasn't fear of the sight he got when he went out for groceries that morning. It was more akin to wanting to reach out but being unable to do so during the day.

That _damn_ curse, he thought.

That, and his desperate need to help that man, which at first obscured other feelings inside the blond. Just then, when he stood in the snowy square, in front of an angel statue that covered his face with stony hands to hide his tears, it clicked. It wasn't just the need to finally be able to protect someone, it was an egoistic necessity of being near Sephiroth and wishing him to be happier, while wanting him as more than a mere friend.

 _Love_ , he (finally) realized. That one feeling that could be very frustrating due to the many questions it brought along with it, especially when one faced rejection. Realizing that almost made Cloud feel dumb and also made the previous night an awkward experience. He had cried against a very shirtless Sephiroth and couldn't remember going to bed. He probably fell asleep on the other man; most likely he was carried and tucked in as well. Gods. The courier was definitely blushing — and not because of the weather — when a voice beside him pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Oh boy, that one does look sad, no doubt."

A young raven haired man stood just beside him. He was quite a figure with that hairstyle, honestly, as spikey as a hedgehog would be. But then again, the blond wasn't one to be talking about spikes.

He barely had time to react, because a familiar "Hello" came from the other side. It was Aerith, dressed in colors that contrasted quite nicely with the wintry environment; mostly pink in nature. She seemed to wear that color quite often, for reasons unknown. Maybe she just liked it that much.

"Oh, hey Aerith and... uh..." Cloud trailed off.

"Zack. Zack Fair. So you're Cloud, right? Aerith told me a lot about you, and aw man, it's so nice finally getting to meet you!"

So that was the Zack he'd been hearing about all this time, a puppy eyed and very energetic young man, a bit shorter than Sephiroth if the blond put some thought into it. There was certainly something about him regarding his demeanor that made everything brighter, just like Aerith whenever she'd drop by to visit, bringing some flowers along with her. Thinking like that just made it obvious how good a match they were.

"Uh, nice to meet you too." The courier replied.

Somehow, Zack reminded him of his mother with that cheerful mood. But as much as he missed her, Cloud also dreaded Nibelheim. It didn't feel like home, it actually never did.

"So, what are you doing outside with this weather?" Aerith asked.

"I'm out for some groceries... guess I got distracted for a moment."

The brunette seemed to light up right away as he said that, as if Cloud had told her that there was about a million gil on the snow by her feet.

“That’s nice, we’re out for groceries too! Let’s go together?”

He nodded in response. Of course, she was oblivious to the rush of confusion going on in his mind from the realization of what he truly felt towards the winged man who, at the moment, looked like a simple statue for most, Aerith and Zack included. His head was a mess and he was headed to do some shopping with a pair of friends — or maybe a friend and her boyfriend, Cloud wasn’t sure if he had the right to call the dark haired man a friend just yet. They had just met, after all.

But Gaia, cheery meetings and shopping with friends wasn’t what he needed at the moment. He didn’t even know where to start organizing his thoughts… how was he even supposed to deal with all of this? There was a _huge_ difference between “I want to help my friend” and “I want to help this man because _I actually love him_ ”. Cloud’s heart skipped a beat at the thought, as though he didn’t have enough confirmation of his feelings by then. The blond was almost sure he heard Aerith say something among the lines of “Yeah, he’s very shy. I told you about it, remember?” meant for the raven haired man and not for him, as if the courier weren’t walking just beside them — with the brunette in the middle, somewhat leading the way even if their steps shared the same pace.

But when exactly he started to consider Sephiroth like less of a friend and more of a potential… _more-than-that_ (A crush? Was that the word he should use? Just an infatuation, maybe, and he was possibly getting his own feelings wrong? He didn’t know) was the real question lying there. What in the middle of a lot of awkwardness — that he couldn’t deny being a thing — was the start point where his views started to change, unnoticed by himself?

_Hel, why did he have company for grocery shopping?_

“You know,” Zack’s voice interrupted whatever he could be trying to make out of the mess in his head “that statue back there reminded me of someone, sort of.”

Suddenly, he had Cloud’s full attention on him.

“And who does it remind you of?”

It felt simply very strange to refer to the silver haired man as an _it_ , but that was what people used for objects such as statues and the blond was the only one who knew better, anyway.

“Ah, there was this guy back in my army days,” he started and a hint of something in his voice told the shorter man that Zack was just as backwater as he was, himself “who everyone outside ShinRa called ‘Mr.S’ because of those propaganda posters. A very reserved guy, that one… I guess only a few people had permission to call him by anything other than _General_ Sephiroth.” He nearly snorted with the short laugh he gave remembering that. Nobody but his mentor and a man named Genesis seemed to approach the man with ease. Not that the ex-SOLDIER hadn’t tried, it was just that it was quite an ordeal to bring the taller man out of his shell and forcing someone like that to change his ways felt frustrating.

Cloud listened to him thoroughly until it fully clicked in his already confused mind. He almost dropped a potato he was holding. _Wait, army days? ShinRa?_

“So, you were… a SOLDIER?”

And that was yet another thing he had to process. Apparently the world was small enough that Aerith’s boyfriend had not just met Sephiroth before, but had been in SOLDIER, as well. And funny as it was, the Planet was even smaller than that to allow them to meet. Or else it was just fate.

“Oh? Yeah, but long story short, I ‘bailed’ my way out of there… I mean, once you get inside they don’t let you go easily.” Zack smiled as though it were something good “And they wanted me for General after Sephiroth vanished.”

The blond certainly dropped the potato he was holding, now. Not that he was judging, but by the sound of it, it was the simple solution of _replace the missing SOLDIER with the closest alternative,_ and while it was the logical way of solving it, in his head it still sounded like _replacing Sephiroth_ and it just felt… off, somehow.

Maybe he was just thinking too much about it and the fact that he was still confused with his feelings didn’t help much. Anyway, the raven haired man didn’t seem to regard his potato dropping as an offense.

“Yeah, I know, man. It sounds so crazy I’d have dropped a potato too if I had one… Me? Filling the General’s role? No, thank you.”

Another thing that felt off was the mention of Zack having to “ _bail_ ” his way out. That, along Sephiroth fleeing made ShinRa appear to be the last place anyone would like to work at if such stories were widely known. It was no wonder the winged man seemed to be relieved by Cloud never joining SOLDIER, then.

“You say they don’t let you go easily… but how did you make it out?”

“If I told you or anyone, I’d probably have the army coming for me, so let’s just say it’s a secret.”

The courier was left to wonder if it was the wink or Zack’s personality that charmed Aerith into loving him, as she came back from the other aisle with a few things in her hands. He was, however, just unaware that what did the trick was the look the brunette got when the former SOLDIER member woke up after falling through the roof of an old church, during an operation that went wrong. Maybe it was a story for another time. A convenience store wasn’t the best place for that, after all.

 

* * *

 

Tifa was acting strange, to say the least.

When the blond came home and passed by her on his way to the kitchen with bags of groceries, she seemed to be watching a documentary… about birds. Tifa wasn’t the kind of person that watched that sort of thing and she wasn’t a bird enthusiast either. The courier as a kid hoarded feathers, while she just seemed to be puzzled about his collection.

“...You’re watching a documentary.” He noted.

“About birds, yes. Wanna join me?”

Even though she was smiling, there was something really off about her overall behavior. The most unsettling part of it was that she was treating it as though it were a normal occurrence for him to return home and catch his friend watching something about the mating habits of… chocobos, of all things. Chocobos. Of course, Cloud certainly liked the races, often delivered things to a chocobo farm himself and interacted with the birds he found there a lot. However, he didn’t really need to watch anything about them… well. But he had no deliveries for the day and it couldn’t hurt, could it?

Well, maybe. If only Tifa wasn’t behaving strangely.

(Unbeknown to him, she had searched his room while Cloud was out. She wouldn’t usually do that, but the concern of there being a bird somewhere in the house made itself loud enough. The brunette still didn’t know what to make out of the fact that there had been someone other than the blond in their house the night before that. And also a bird, she was sure of it. Disappointment by the lack of said bird in the house at the current moment — or was it relief? — had her turning on the television on the first bird documentary she could find, for not knowing how to bring up the subject around the blond.

And said documentary happened to be about the mating habits of chocobos. Oh well.)

Cloud sat beside her, a little suspicious about that. He said nothing, which had their living room in complete silence — except by the television noises — for quite a while.

“Barret decided to close the bar for today, by the way. It seems that Marlene is sick.” And that was true, despite her strange behavior.

“Oh? Ah Gaia, I hope she gets well soon.”

Other than snow, cold season was something that slowed down many businesses, even if the person that got sick wasn’t the owner but a relative. Among said occupations delayed by the weather was delivery, mostly the freelance work, though. It still meant that he had an afternoon to spend at home, anyway.

And he was watching chocobos with Tifa instead of sorting out his feelings properly. Odin, his head was a mess and apparently mating a black chocobo with a wonderful one would result in a golden chocobo, which racers loved more than anything, what with those being the best and almost looking like they shone. Wonderful birds had feathers as yellow as his hair was blond and it was no wonder that Cloud had been, more than once in his life, compared to one of those things. The black ones were just like their name identified them, dark as the night.

He didn’t know how and when his thoughts fluttered from oversized birds to a certain person with a dark wing and silver hair. Now that he noticed, he thought of the man more often than he believed he did. Also with more fondness than it was expected.

Cloud’s head was still a mess because he had no idea about what to do with that.

Even if the blond told him about such feelings, there was still the matter of the curse. It wasn’t practical and would just bring more suffering to both of them. That is, if Sephiroth liked him back like that. Zack had mentioned the fact of the man being a reserved person and that was obvious from the way a lot of things were still untold; so much that the courier didn’t know and wouldn’t risk asking to avoid hitting possible sensitive subjects.

“Tifa, is there something you’re not telling me?” He asked after a while. _There should be something_. Maybe it was big, if she wasn’t talking to him about it directly. “I mean, you can talk to me about anything. That’s what friends are for, right?”

It was funny to hear Cloud asking her about that, when she was the one who heard noises coming from his room. Sounds that he wouldn’t talk about the next day and not just that, but the fact that there was a third person in the house… How should the brunette even start the questions? _Hey, are you seeing someone secretly? Why did I hear a bird in your room and also someone else? Are you just secretly dating someone and don’t want to tell me who they are or are you, by any chance, commercializing birds when I’m asleep?_

“Tifa?”

“I’m concerned about you.” She sighed. “I mean… how to say this, I heard a noise last night when I was getting a glass of water and it… sounded like a bird was in your room.” Tifa wouldn’t mention the fact that she was sure that there was someone else in there. That would be too much and well, if the blond wasn’t telling it on his own… “You aren’t, uh, doing anything illegal regarding birds, are you?”

Cloud wanted to burst out with _What else did you hear?!_ but that sounded like giving in something that he wasn’t sure he should tell. After all, how would the brunette react to the knowledge that he had befriended a man who not only had a wing but was also cursed? And even worse, but that he would never tell anyone, he had a crush on said man or so it seemed to be it. Gods, he _did_ have a crush on Sephiroth, didn’t he?

“What?” He chuckled, trying to cover how nervous he was “You think I would bring a chocobo home or something? What in Hel’s name, Tifa, honestly…”

“So what was that last night?”

The awful part of it was having to lie.

“I… had a nightmare. So I… opened the window to get some fresh air for a moment and this raven came flying in.”

_Oh yes, that was one very large raven with an angst past and a damn curse._

“Are you sure it wasn’t a crow? I mean, Hati isn’t that much bigger than, let’s say, Nibelheim, but it’s still more urban than that. Not that I don’t believe you,” through it sounded just fishy and didn’t quite explain why someone else was in the house “it’s just that I’ve never seen a raven in this town.”

“I guess it came from the woods past the square, then. It was definitely a raven, I’m sure of it.”

She hummed thoughtfully. That wasn’t the full story, as it was obvious by the sound of it, but there was no point in forcing it all out of him. Well, at least Cloud wasn’t messing around with such a thing as the black market or any illegal business. Or at least she hoped he wasn’t. From her point of view, the blond was somewhat distant since he came back home, perhaps even before that, in a way that seemed just so… off. Uh.

“If I ever hide a chocobo here, you’ll be the first to know, Tifa.” He tried to reassure her. Anything just so she wouldn’t have to dig too deep into it. “Well, I’m gonna take a bath… try not to watch the chocobos too much, alright?” He chuckled again, a bit weirded out by all of that, but surprisingly fine… in a way, at least.

“I just didn’t know how to ask you about it, that’s all!” She shouted at him as he left.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the day Cloud was pretty much decided about not saying a thing about those feelings unless he found a way to lift that curse, even if it hurt to keep his lips sealed about it. And with Tifa having a day off, especially after she told him about hearing noises, the courier didn’t think it would be a good idea to sneak out to visit the silver haired man. In all honesty, he had no idea of how he would feel like if he saw Sephiroth that night, after realizing what he did. Hel, it’d probably be awkward. Perhaps settling down for just one night wouldn’t be so bad. He could always offer the excuse that sleep got the best out of him if the question about his disappearance was prompted. Except that the silver haired man never asked such a thing whenever he didn’t visit. The blond couldn’t tell if it was because the other man didn’t mind or if it was just something awkward (and perhaps unnecessary) to ask.

But oh yes, a quiet night without any _bird interruptions_ would be something nice. Maybe he’d be alright with going through the next day and seeing the former SOLDIER. Then he would, at some point later, finally understand what exactly Sephiroth had that made his heart beat faster like that. And who knows, if he sorted that out there could be some hope in putting those feelings aside for a moment to try to reach an answer about that curse. Maybe. He had to think positively about that.

However, Cloud had _Strife_ in his name. While it didn’t imply that he was fated to face problems all the time or that said issues would be difficult and make him restless, the world seemed to present no times of calmness to him for longer than it seemed necessary.

And as such, there was a single knock on his window. His breath hitched.

Sephiroth handed him a basket of apples and made his way into the room, not bothering at all in concealing the wing from view. He seemed to be happy about being there, which was quite something compared with the previous night and didn’t prevent the blond’s heart from skipping a beat. It didn’t help in the slightest.

 _Please stop smiling like that_ , he prayed wordlessly, _or I might end up kissing that smile away_.

“A-apples.” He simply said, ignoring his thoughts — or trying to — for a moment, almost hating himself for the way his voice faltered, for the way that what came out of his mouth was a greeting, but something far from that.

Those apples did nothing to be called dumbapples other than maturing at random times of the year and he felt dumb at the moment.

“Someone willingly left them by my feet. I have no idea why.”

“I guess they were from Nibelheim.” Cloud smiled, more to himself than to the other man in his room. “There’s this thing people told the kids to get them to be good… it says that if you see a weeping angel you have to leave an offering — because it’s what good people do, they leave offerings — or else it’ll take your soul to Hel when you die. But it also says that if you’re good the whole time they just won’t appear for you.”

Sephiroth offered him a puzzled look in response. “...So if I pretend to be crying people will leave me apple baskets?” He wondered as he sat on the bed beside the smaller man. _Oh Gaia, yes. Free apples_.

“If they’re from Nibelheim and believe in this stuff… yeah, you get free apples or whatever people are willing to offer.”

The silver haired man let out a long “Hmm” at that, which obviously sounded as low as his voice and gave the blond butterflies in his stomach. How much different everything was, now that Cloud was aware of what he actually felt. How should him move even more away from the winged man without his actions making him look suspicious?

“You cried.” The courier noted.

“You did the same.”

“Uh, yeah… but I was distressed because I don’t know how to help you and the things that happened to you… they weren’t fair.”

He didn’t know why he could _feel_ Sephiroth grin without having to look at him and wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the reason for that.

“Please don’t upset yourself on my behalf, Cloud. You already help much more than you can imagine by keeping me company when you’re not obliged to do so.”

“It doesn’t lift the curse—” The blond started, only to have the other man turn around to silence him by placing a finger on his lips before carrying on.

“You’re keeping me mentally grounded. It means a lot, given the circumstances in which I found myself being. Thank you.” He let go, but Cloud didn’t know what he should be saying to that, which prompted the taller man to keep going. “As long as you don’t change, cursed or not, I think I’ll be fine. So don’t worry yourself that much.” The winged man stroked his messy blond spikes briefly and fell back into silence. A light, friendly touch and yet it had him embarrassed and wishing for more of it. _Gaia_.

“But why did you cry?” _Worse, why did you wait to be out of my sight to do that?_

Silence, then quiet humming.

“I realized something that upset me but I don’t… feel comfortable in sharing.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to.”

Cloud just wished that the man wouldn’t hum again in the way he kept doing so, as it was too much for his tastes. It was like a cat purring, but said feline was six feet tall with a dark wing and hair far too long for his own good. Women would kill to have good looking hair such as that and yet, there was Sephiroth, sitting on his bed with a cascade of silver falling down his back and facing away from him while apparently preening the black feathers of that large appendage with way too much patience. Just like a bird would do, if birds had hands, that is.

Alright, Sephiroth was attractive. However a good cover was nothing if a book told a different story, one that turned out to be awful. It couldn’t be just about looks, then. But then, what was it about, exactly?

“You’ve met Zack Fair, am I right?” was the question that interrupted his line of thought. The taller man was still busy with his own feathers to turn around.

“I… yeah. But you were covering your face, so how…”

“Walls have ears and so do statues, it seems.” That damn smirk was there again, lingering in the words this time. “So, how was it?”

“He is… nice. Very friendly and energetic. He told me ShinRa wanted him for General when you… left.”

Sephiroth… snorted. It didn’t stop there and soon he was laughing like a madman, while trying to keep it quiet by hiding his face into his own feathers. The blond reached the conclusion that he loved that sound, but still what was so funny about that?

“Hah, oh, Ifrit… now that’s something.” He seemed to recover for a moment, only to fall into laughing again. “Alright, his mentor, Angeal, was my friend and would probably eat me alive if I laughed this much about this, with our other friend watching, but Gaia… Ok, just picture Zack.”

“I’m imagining him… what about it?”

“Imagine him as a _General_.” The silver haired man was on the edge of giving into laughter again. “It doesn’t work. He makes it just fine for a terribly good Commander, as far as I know, definitely a great morale boost for the troops, sure. _But imagine him as a General, Cloud_. Gaia, Angeal said Zack wanted to be a hero. That would be the total opposite of it, oh my Gods.” There was laughter again. “I’m so sorry for him, so sorry.”

“Ah, well, maybe he didn’t know what ShinRa was really going on about?” Cloud was concerned because the man beside him was still laughing into his wing and maybe it wasn’t because the possibility was funny, as it had a dark ring of _I was the General and that’s not what being a hero is about_ to it. Shiva, it was too sad to think of it that way.

“He’d be still there if he didn’t, hah.”

The courier allowed him to laugh himself into silence. _Gods_.

“Are you alright?” He asked when it finally came to a halt.

“No, I feel awful. But don’t upset yourself for my sake. I’m not that hurt.”

Now, Sephiroth was trying to keep him from worrying way too much. He was almost start to wonder the cause for that and thinking about it too much was having him concerned, which was what the winged man didn’t want in the first place. That request seemed so awfully pointless.

“Do you need a hug?” Cloud offered, but immediately regretted doing so. Ah, what he was doing? It was as futile as asking him not to worry about anything. He needed to keep the winged man from finding out how much faster than the usual his heart was beating — almost pounding from the intensity of it — inside his chest. Hugging would ruin that plan. But taking the offer back seemed something cruel to do. _Fuck_.

 _Please don’t hug me_.

The silver haired man nodded his agreement, turning to him as well. The blond felt his extremities grow cold, then felt much smaller than he was once he was pulled in closer. It was awkward as he was the one who offered that much contact and yet it still took him a few seconds to react properly to it. There was something good about this — other than that lovely warmth — as Sephiroth couldn't see how badly he was blushing at the moment.

“I led men into killing other men, then took their leaders down. It wasn’t… heroic.” The silver haired man said after a while, his eyelashes fluttering closed. “And yet… I pointed a blade at you. You’ve forgiven me. I’ve had an… episode and you dealt with it quite well. I put a hole in that scarf of yours and you want to help me…”

“I don’t get the point you’re trying to make, Seph.”

The winged man sighed.

“Why do I even deserve your friendship, of all things? People are made to fear me and I’m pretty much a package of issues, so why do you concern yourself so much?” The blond opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a kind of extra note. “The fact that you know that I’m not just a statue in a public square doesn’t count.”

“I… don’t know. It’s not out of pity, that’s for sure. You’re, hm… nice to have around? I have no idea how to explain this...” Cloud yawned against the other man’s shoulder. Gaia, he wasn’t so drowsy like that moments before, or was he? Maybe it was the cozy heat from all that hugging. “You’re a fluffy package of angst and feathers and you’re making me feel all sleepy by hugging me like this. Hmm, let me lie down before I sleep on you again.”

Sephiroth let go, even though he wanted to keep holding the blond, who was far too kind for his own benefit. Maybe that was the reason he liked Cloud that much after all; for that excessive kindness that seemed undeserved. He sighed. This was no place to lose himself in thoughts, especially not when a certain smaller blond was running fingers through his feathers from where he was lying down. It was just too much.

“You’re lucky that I’m not molting. I’d probably try to hurt you if you touched my wing like that if I was.” He said in an amused tone.

“I’ve seen you shed feathers before… Gaia, you _gave_ me a feather.”

For some reason, whenever Cloud got too sleepy like that, his Nibelheim accent would become more obvious. And for yet other unknown reasons, the winged man thought it was rather pleasant sounding.

“It’s different. I’m not molting at the moment. Molting annoys me… a lot. And you don’t annoy me, so it’s a tragic combination.”

“Tell me when I can’t touch you, then, big bird.”

Maybe he could get used to Cloud calling him silly nicknames while drowsy like that. Oh, now if he could just break that curse… perhaps it’d feel less cruel to talk about some things and try to settle them. It could be worth a try and it could be easier, by then, even if the blond’s kindness turned out to be just the way he acted around everyone. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy. Maybe the courier would cry again and that wasn’t something comforting to think about, not after realizing how terrible it felt, having the blond weep for his sake.

Eventually, those gentle strokes against his wing stopped. But Cloud didn’t need to know that he’d be staying for a little longer to watch him sleep.


	10. An Interruption of Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which... progress happens along with a snowy firework night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I don't update this since August? That's a long time, wow.  
> Anyway, I kept rewriting this particular chapter and having massive writer blocks all hesitantly like "Oh noes, I can't write this. It feels crack-ish." and "Ok, now it feels in-character, but it's so incredibly sappy? Uguu", among a lot of other stuff that happened to just steal my inspiration away. But it's finally here and I have no regrets. (Hooray!)  
> Next one will more likely be an interlude, which I hope to update soon.  
> (And yes, the title is a reference to the infamous Gold Saucer date song.)

Cloud woke up with the feeling that his right arm was numb, as though something had been pressing down on it for hours. He couldn't say that it hurt, just that it was quite uncomfortable enough to jolt him awake, despite the fact that it hadn't been the sole reason that kidnapped him away from a world of dreams: his bed felt way warmer than it usually was, even with the heater on. He blinked a few times, trying to move away from his sleep filled haziness. From the way he was lying on the bed, his clock sitting on the nightstand was the first thing he saw once his eyes gained focus. It was only but a few minutes past three in the morning, meaning that there was no sunlight outside, which half explained the next thing he soon realized once he tried to move his head and felt something soft tickle his chin. Something like hair. He reached a hand up to it, marveling at the silkiness of it for a moment.

It had been quite some time since someone last slept on him. The last person to do so was Tifa, after they had just moved to their current place in Hati. They had barely unpacked their things and still, it was so late, maybe the darkest hours of the night. Sitting on the couch to rest for a moment from unboxing some stuff proved itself to be a bad idea and Cloud woke up a couple hours after doing so to find his friend deep asleep atop of him.

His current situation was similar, yet so different.

Sephiroth lied on bed just beside him, terribly close so that his face was almost close to the blond's neck; head half supported by Cloud's arm as though it were a pillow. (He didn't even know that the man slept because of the curse he bore.) That large wing of his embraced Cloud like a second blanket, which explained the excessive heat.

Fully awareness finally clicked in and he slid his hand away from the silver strands a bit too hastily. There was a low groan of annoyance in response to that and the taller man moved closer to him, the grip he had on the courier's waist tightening and the wing giving a small twitch.

He had to wake Sephiroth up and make him leave, even though a part of him practically screamed to allow the other man to stay. If morning came, Cloud would just be stuck and Gaia, that would be a terrible way for all of this to backfire.

“…Seph?” He tried, only to receive another groan, which sent chills down his spine from how close of his neck the silver haired man was. “You need to mosey, wake up.”

“…Mosey.” Sephiroth repeated in disbelief, with a small hint of laughter. “Seriously, Cloud?”

“Yeah, that sounds… awful, I know.”

The taller man sat up at last, though he was still a little drowsy; wing sliding away from where it lied, half spread, leaving the blond to miss the extra warmth it offered. There was a yawn and then cat-like, mako infused eyes seemed to focus a little with the gaze that Sephiroth gave him.

“I’m sorry. I slept on you… I don't even remember it happening…”

“It's alright, I sleep on you all the time anyway.” The only dangers of it, now that Cloud considered, were his arm numbing down and what he was aware that he felt. It was strange because everything just seemed to be the same (just another friend, not an infatuation) if he didn't pay any mind to said feelings. For all he was aware, all of that could be merely platonic, couldn't it?

( _Maybe_.)

Sephiroth ran his hand through spikes of blond hair, completely unsure if he wanted to soothe the courier into going back to sleep or if it was just a selfish need of touching. He had never been the one to want to offer such gentleness to others. It was almost foreign to him, but those golden locks were soft enough that it was hard to let go unless he was either told to stop or if the blond managed to fall asleep again. Maybe the blond was an exception, then.

“Nnngh, Tifa would be jealous…” Cloud noted, teasingly and the hand caressing his head stopped, tempted to retreat but not leaving just yet.

The silver haired man had never considered Tifa in all of that. Of course, she didn't sleep in the same room as her housemate, but what if she had feelings for the blond that weren't one sided? What if Sephiroth would be just making everything more complicated by saying anything?

“Why?” He simply asked, trying to disguise that weird feeling. (Was that what jealousy felt like? He wondered, though it probably was that, yes.)

The courier opened his mouth, then paused, searching for the right words to say. “I guess,” he said, still unsure “she likes me. Or liked me at some point, I don’t know.” He got a hold of the winged man’s wrist, not to take that hand away but to silently tell Sephiroth that it was alright to run his fingers through his hair, which had the man oblige and resume the soothing touch. The drowsiness had him less embarrassed about requesting such a thing. The blond was afraid, even in his sleepy state, that maybe saying that had the other man thinking that perhaps it was wrong to offer such caresses.

“I understand. Do you… like her back?” Cloud eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t see any concern or worry… or jealousy. He almost hated himself for hoping to see feelings like those in that face, when the man looked nothing but neutral.

“Hm, no, I don’t think so.” His eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed how drowsier he was getting with the gentleness of the ministration he was being offered. “I think of her more like… the sister I’ve never had, hmm.”

With an almost silly hope up again, Sephiroth just hummed; slowly, thoughtfully. He watched as the smaller man eventually fell asleep once more, tempted to stay but aware of the trouble it might bring.

* * *

It was strange yet very pleasant, falling asleep on Cloud like that. Maybe even awkward, if personal spaces and feelings were to be concerned. The oddness of it came from the fact that ever since that curse took over him, the winged man hadn’t slept or felt the need to do so. It was as though that necessity had been halted along several others and yet he had dozed off while watching the blond sleep so peacefully, like some kind of tiredness decided to pull at his strings at last. How he ended up snuggling closer to the courier was a mysterious matter and he didn’t know whether to feel ashamed by that or happy that the shorter man didn’t seem to mind it other than by the fact that the curse still ticked; the danger of waking up to a statue version of him that would only have Cloud stuck, unable to get out without help and probably a thousand of questions.

Even weirder was that Sephiroth couldn’t remember sleeping so well before, even during the time he had been among the ranks of ShinRa. But then again, the company’s security was poor enough that it felt unsafe to let go completely. He had been in the army, his job requiring him to remain alert constantly; and trust issues having him treat even his own apartment with wariness.

Perhaps it was because being around Cloud felt safe, and the blond seemed to be trustworthy, other than for that feeling that had the former general’s heart pounding faster inside him. Or so he thought, as he made his way out and closed the window behind him.

_Damned was that curse, that kept him from staying until dawn_.

It was a lot like the myths and legends on Professor Gast’s old books that he used to be able to borrow before things changed for the worse (as if they weren’t bad before). It didn’t wear off with time and, combined with the fact that any sign that he was alive could attract ShinRa’s attention if it were to spread, made him pretty much a prisoner. Settling down as just another decoration among others kept him free of suspicion but trapped to the fate of returning to the same spot before sunrise. He had felt as a prisoner of the company back then, leaving out for errands in their name but still being monitored all the other times; prevented from doing anything that could ruin ShinRa, even that it was tempting to expose Hojo’s human experiments.

And yet, a small hope inside him had him imagining Cloud returning his feelings and drowsy blue eyes opening; slowly focusing on him as light filtered through the window. Cloud sitting up on the bed with a lazy yawn before finally greeting him ‘good morning’ and lingering there a little longer before carrying on with his morning routine. There was a longing to know how the morning light looked like on his golden hair and pale features but also a conflicted feeling that if such thoughts were to be shared, the blond could decide to make it his mission to find a way to lift that curse and presumably suffer with frustration in the process of doing so, the latter highly undesired. He preferred a smiling Cloud — sun-kissed spikes of hair and sky blue eyes — than one clouded with tears, however having said Cloud the way he wanted seemed to be almost too selfish of him considering his current situation.

Sephiroth let out a frustrated sigh as he retrieved Masamune from the snowy ground and settled atop the cold stone where he was supposed to be as a statue.

* * *

 

The full realization that Sephiroth had slept on him only sunk in after the blond woke up again, once he was going through his morning routine, distracted with the TV sounds coming from downstairs. The courier looked at his image in the mirror to find himself blushing to the thought. Cloud couldn’t even remember if he asked the man why he had stayed even after he fell asleep, and though the blond was almost sure that he didn’t, there was no answer to that question.

However, there was no way to deny the fact that the silver haired man made quite a lovely sight when he was drowsy.

The blond tried to helplessly wash that blush away from his face out of reflex. It was just pointless and very awkward. He sighed, loudly. It made things even more confusing if put together with that memory of Tifa falling asleep on him and his suspicion that her caring and protective behavior could be hiding something else, akin to those feelings he had for Sephiroth.

_“Oh, Cloud… I’m sorry, I guess I was too tired…” She had looked the most embarrassed he ever saw her being_.

It was equally awkward, if not worse, but it had him thinking — hoping — that maybe the other man liked him back if he'd stayed to watch the blond sleep. Or that perhaps he was a complete moron to compare the similarities of the two situations like that.

He went back to his bedroom to get his phone. An outsider’s opinion would be great at the moment. There were a couple texts of a man who identified himself as Highwind, wanting him to bring him some things from Midgar to Edge, with the unnecessary explanation that he wouldn’t dare go near that “damned company’s domain”. By the way it was written, one could suppose that other more colorful words were being repressed in a vague attempt to sound polite over texts. Oh, that would be quite a trip.

* * *

Luckily enough, it wasn’t Aerith who picked up the phone, so there wasn’t the awkward “Uh, hey, can I talk to Zack?” kind of exchange but a “Hello— oh, it’s you! What’s up kiddo?” that was just too joyful as it was pleasant, like they were old friends. Cloud didn’t bother calling him out on calling him a ‘ _kiddo_ ’, even though he could almost bet that the raven haired man was only two years older than him, at most.

He had met Zack _once_ , but this was a matter he wasn’t willing to share with Tifa — and Aerith as well. (Not that he didn’t trust the latter, but it could always accidentally slip and it would be worse than telling Tifa himself. It could always slip from the former SOLDIER to his girlfriend and then to the brunette, too, but the blond truly hoped that it wouldn’t.)

“I, uh, need advice with a thing. And well... please don’t tell Aerith?”

“Relax, Aery’s taking a bath,” _A bath that he wanted to join in_ , Zack thought, but unfortunately she wasn’t in the mood for activities other than bathing, which he respected despite his pouting as she disappeared into the bathroom “she’ll get no word of this, promise. Now, what is eating you?”

Cloud hesitated, as though he were finally realizing that he had called this man, who he met a single time to ask for romantic advice.

“Uh, Gaia… this is awkward. I mean, we barely met and I’m bringing my problems to you...”

“It’s alright, that’s what heroes are for, right?” Zack chuckled warmly “Helping people with their problems?”

_(But imagine him as a General, Cloud. Gaia, Angeal said Zack wanted to be a hero. That would be the total opposite of it, oh my gods.)_

“Uh... yeah. Ok, uh…” Why was that so awkwardly hard? “I think I like someone I know. But, well, I have no idea if I should… you know. I don't want to ruin what we have because it's already too complicated.”

Cloud didn't even know what to say of that situation if he were to be honest. He couldn't just burst into _I like this guy but he seems to have a traumatic background and also turns to stone by dawn. And oh, he's actually Sephiroth, former Mr.S. of Shinra and all that, yes_. The blond was starting to regret calling, but a part of him hoped that the dark haired man's possible experience in dealing with the former General could help, even though the other man didn't knew it was about Sephiroth.

“Aw, c'mon… it can't be complicated as say, Sephiroth.” Zack offered, completely oblivious to the matter; finding joy in the memory of that stoic man. “So, how are they like?”

“Really tall and problematic when opening up. Something traumatic happened to him. Maybe a lot of things, but like I said,” The blond sighed almost in disbelief “problems with opening up. He… is very nice, though.” He couldn't help but smile at the thought of silver hair and gentleness; awkward moments and strange ways of bonding other than small talk. Turquoise eyes that regarded the moon above them with too much intent, though never getting distracted by the sight of it to the point of ignoring him. (Eyes that stared at him with similar intent just once from what he was aware, thus leaving him with too many questions from thinking too much about such a small detail.) Hair that fell in a cascade of silver (like it were made of stars whenever the moon cast a pale light over it) against the man's back; even softer than the down of a bird. The courier had to keep himself from sighing deeply. So easy it was, to daydream of Sephiroth as of lately, if he wasn't paying attention to anything else.

The description Zack was given sounded so close to someone he’d once known that the dark haired man had to stop for a moment to gather his thoughts while humming on his end of the call. _It couldn’t be possible, right? Shinra had declared the man as being dead_. But then again, such was the case with Angeal and they almost had Zack go to eliminate his former mentor one year and some months after the man’s disappearance. (A mission that Zack had refused to take part in, of course. And that was when his negotiation to leave SOLDIER began, which took so much longer than he wished it would take and just became more difficult with another terrorist attack to the company and Sephiroth leaving.) He wouldn’t be surprised if Sephiroth were to be alive and awakening that sort of feelings on other people. The man was Shinra’s role model for the SOLDIER program after all and during his time there, Zack knew a lot of people who had a hopeless crush on the General. (And it helped nothing that despite the apparent coldness, Sephiroth was somehow caring and carried himself very well.) But Zack hadn’t ever been one to judge, though.

It’d be a complete surprise, though, if the man were alive and terribly close like that. _What a small world_ , the former SOLDIER would definitely say.

“I know it sounds like the complete opposite of what you probably want to hear, but buddy… just talk to him.” There was a hint of laughter there. On a different note, he wished he had talked to Angeal before the man left Shinra and him — and the Buster Sword — behind. The note that was left on that fateful day explained near to nothing about his mentor’s true reasons.

( _I’m leaving my sword in your care as I know it’ll be in good hands. Please, don’t follow me. It may be dangerous. I’m sorry, Zack. I’m afraid that this is goodbye._ )

If only they had spoken about that before it happened, maybe Zack would’ve supported the cause, taken Aerith along and left Midgar too. However, perhaps his life would be different by then, having to outrun the army until Shinra forgot about them. Strangely enough, Angeal leaving without him gave him a peaceful life in the end, even that the memory of the events filled him with despair. “Of course, take it easy and don’t be blunt, but talk to him.” _Embrace your dreams, man_. The raven haired man wanted to say, but it reminded him a lot of a certain someone he looked up to, who left him feeling like an abandoned puppy back then.

“You sure?” Cloud’s voice bore a sense of uncertainty. “I mean, what if it makes everything more awkward?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try— Oh, guess who’s coming out of the shower? It’s time for me to go but hey, good luck, man. Let me know how that turns out.”

There was just enough time for Cloud to thank him and bid him goodbye before Zack ended the call. Not long after that, Aerith emerged from the bathroom; a towel around her body and another one on her head, wrapping up her mass of beautiful brown hair.

“Your turn now.” She said with an amused tone. “Hope I didn’t take that long.”

“You didn’t,” the dark haired man reassured her “but I think you just carried about all the towels we had in there, babe.”

“Silly, I left you some.” Aerith replied, choosing some fresh clothes to change into.

“That’s why I said ‘about’!” He chuckled, all but disappearing into the bathroom himself. The scent of Aerith’s shampoo invaded his enhanced senses, flowery and sweet; the steam caused by the hot water still lingering in the air. From the room he just left, Zack could hear the familiar sound of a hairdryer being turned on. Just an usual calm morning that would eventually lead them to the Gainsborough & Fair Flowers and Presents little shop. It was somewhat hard to run such a business in such a snowy season, but manageable, nonetheless. And they had the Winter Festival drawing near, which meant more people stopping by to buy things and more money in their wallets.

_If only it were Spring already_ , he thought, somewhat longing for the endless warmth of Gongaga, which was all about seasons of rain and times of even more warmth, lacking snow entirely. Maybe he could take Aerith there someday. It was a backwater place, sure, but the sky there was beautiful. It could be great, now that both of them had sorted out her fear of the sky.

* * *

Cid Highwind was… lively, Cloud thought. Not like Zack, but more like a drunk sailor. Except that Cid wasn’t drunk — he smoked instead — and much less a sailor, even though he cursed just like one. He claimed to be the best pilot to ever live and talked about how thankful he was about not having to go to Midgar. Apparently, Shinra had taken away the man’s dream of going to space — and his airship — which sort of explained the nature of the package he needed the courier to deliver to him. The blond barely registered a mention of Rocket Town through his distracted thoughts.

Zack gave him a good advice, but yet he couldn’t shake away the thought that Sephiroth was the kind of person that only brought the past up if the situation prompted him to do so and even with that, the silver haired man often wouldn’t get into that much detail about the subject, brushing it off as soon as possible. The worrying part wasn’t not fully knowing that past — Cloud understood how that could be a touchy topic — but the walls around Sephiroth that made him uncertain if feelings were something to be discussed. Or the whole subject of how the man had come across that curse, if it was not because of Shinra.

“That fucking Shinra, I tell you.”

Highwind swearing yet again (and how many times had it been by then?) about that company pulled him out of it. He didn’t even know why this client was so keen in going on with the small talk, but the courier had made his way from Hati to Midgar and finally to Edge with no trouble other than growing a little tired of the whole travel. He could use going back home and maybe dropping by to see Sephiroth or who knows, waiting to see if the man would visit him. Cid seemed to notice that tiredness as the pilot drew that short conversation to a close, allowing Cloud to take his leave.

It was practically evening when the blond made it back to Hati, catching a very brief glimpse of a certain one winged angel stretching in the distance as Cloud made his way around the square, Fenrir roaring constantly under him.

In the end, it turned out to be one of those nights in which they just sat on Cloud’s bed and talked about everything and nothing, failing to stand to Zack’s advice when it regarded feelings, but at least making a little progress nonetheless.

“There was a gargoyle some time after I left Shinra,” Sephiroth began to explain once he was prompted to speak about it properly in the middle of their small talk “but it didn’t look normal. I fought against it without much trouble, however… the day after that I couldn’t move until it was nighttime again.”

“Maybe we could try a Soft during the day?” Cloud suggested.

The silver haired man did nothing but nod. Maybe that was it and he couldn’t solve the problem himself. That was the problem with being petrified, one needed another person to soften them up again. Perhaps that could work and with the blond’s worries eased, maybe he could talk to him without feeling guilty about putting the courier through the possible suffering of having only the night if that small light of hope he had about the shorter man turned out to be true.

* * *

Yuffie thought Cloud was behaving suspiciously when he dropped by to buy an Esuna, but didn’t comment on it. Someone was finally buying some materia and it felt wrong to protest at that. There was still that silly hope to one day have enough money to go back to Wutai and be able to handle free materia to her people, maybe start working to restore her land’s former glory. She’d go back to living there again and who knows, perhaps she could invite all her new friends and acquaintances to visit. Oh yes, that was something nice to look forward to.

She picked up Marlene so the little girl could say hello to the blond from behind the counter, while the latter was counting his gil to pay. That seemed to ease the mood a little. Ah, well. One could only wonder what was going on that chocobo head of his.

Cloud left Seventh Heaven with a sigh, making a last stop by the potion shop before heading to the square. There was a plan he had in mind. If a Soft wouldn’t work, then he’d try that Esuna. But he hoped that it would work regardless of what he used.

-

_It must’ve been really frustrating_ , Sephiroth thought while watching the blond sleep that night. There was no doubt about that as he had seen the look the courier gave him, of defeat and utter frustration at that failed attempt. But then again, none of them thought it’d be that easy, despite the hope lingering there for a brief moment. At least all that frustration didn’t seem to carry over Cloud’s sleep. He just seemed peaceful at the moment, which made the silver haired man envy him a little. Being in Shinra never offered him peace, despite those stolen moments of free times among friends. Being out of Shinra… well. He couldn’t say that he was at peace with those feelings he had, which only made him restless.

Being around Cloud was both very relaxing and very stressing. A constant mix of the two things that would seem quite unlikely if Sephiroth didn’t feel like that.

He took his chance to bow over the courier’s sleeping form to carefully press a kiss against soft spikes of blond hair. The blond was deeply asleep anyway, so it probably would go unnoticed. However, it just left Sephiroth with the complications of wanting to do that again but feeling guilty about doing so in the first place.

* * *

Cloud had been so distracted by trying to find a way to lift that curse — and still planning how he should approach the winged man about an another complicated subject — that he completely forgot that the Winter Festival was a thing until Tifa warned him one morning that she would work overtime that day.

Even then, he wasn’t that keen on going anyway. The fireworks were nice, of course, but he wasn’t a fan of crowds.

He just wondered how things would be like for Sephiroth, having his square so full of people. Would he fly away and hide somewhere until it was over? Would he drop by to visit instead of the blond going to him, then? Just as he thought about it, without realizing the time passing, Cloud felt a book lightly hit his head; obviously not meant to hurt him, it was only to draw his attention away from his musings. A “Hey, are you with your head in the clouds or something?” followed, along with some chuckling on Tifa’s part.

“Ow, that hurt.” Cloud said, pretending that it really did. However, the brunette could see through his dramatic lie and just ruffled his hair in almost obvious, feigned apology.

“Seriously? You fell from that mountain and just scraped your knees while I…” She drifted off, realizing her mistake. All those years and the blond still blamed himself for that accident. “...I’m sorry, didn’t mean to say that. But well, as I was saying, you could... come to the bar if you want. It’s gonna be crowded, I know, but… maybe it could be better than staying home?”

“I… uh, will think about it.”

* * *

Cloud really thought about it, that he could just go to Seventh Heaven that night instead of meeting up with Sephiroth. But when he was finally leaving the house he shared with Tifa that night, his destination wasn’t Barret’s bar. Even if it was, just by being outside the courier was in for an interruption with an abrupt change of plans ahead.

The moment he stepped out of the house, the sound of feathers rustling against each other in flight made itself noticeable from somewhere above him. He turned around just in time to catch the sight of a certain one winged person landing. _Should he tease the man about hiding on his rooftop or…?_

“The square is very crowded tonight.” Sephiroth simply said.

“Yeah, there’s a festival going on. Do you want to…?” The blond gestured awkwardly to the door. Maybe it was a night to remain inside, after all.

But the other man shook his head. “I was thinking about going… somewhere else. Are you afraid of heights?”

Cloud looked at him for a moment, a little confused with the sudden question.

“Uh… no. But wha—” He couldn’t even finish, getting interrupted almost instantly.

“Good.” The winged man proceeded to pick him up almost effortlessly, ignoring the surprised “Hey!” that came from the other man. “Just… hold on tightly, alright?”

That was something he didn’t need to be told, as once the taller man took off, Cloud was doing just that by mere reaction to the movement. He had dreamed about flying more than once, but nothing could compare to actually flying — more being carried through the air than flying, actually, which had him wishing that the other man wouldn’t notice that his face getting red, like it probably was, wasn’t because of the cold weather.

When they landed again, it wasn’t on the ground, but on an unnoticed, snowy rooftop. It barely offered a view to the public square in the distance, but at least it would be a clear view of the fireworks. It sounded incredibly sappy, but at the same time it had the courier hoping that that was some sort of indication. Well, at the very least, it was completely less crowded… like a rooftop could even be crowded, he thought.

In the end it felt oddly like they were just replacing the bench — _their_ bench, he thought, helplessly — with a strangely shaped taller one. A funny thought, nonetheless. But maybe it was just that after all, as they sat there and shared the kind of conversations they always had, in the same casual manner — as if there was anything of casual about sitting on snowy rooftops at night and sharing odd stories.

However, Sephiroth started… hesitating. And that certainly had nothing of casual about it, so it got all of Cloud’s attention. He turned just enough to catch sight of the blond and opened his mouth to say something that was never heard as the fireworks started just that exact moment.

There was a moment of silence again, but just enough for the courier to ask “What?” as more fireworks filled the sky, all noisy and bright, seeming to last forever due to the curiosity of what had been said becoming a weird feeling of anxiety (and hope). Sephiroth glanced up at the sky a little annoyed with so much interruption, almost selfishly, before returning his attention to the blond. He leaned in to repeat it, just to make sure he would be heard properly this time.

“I said… I may have become fond of you in a manner other than friendly.”

Cloud gasped, but the noise went almost unheard because of yet more fireworks. He just silently stared at the winged man half waiting for a confirmation of what had been just said, half wanting to reply to that but finding no words to do so.

(That whole situation was still so incredibly... _sappy_.)

“Please... say something.” Sephiroth tried, once the silence — save for the fireworks, of course — stretched for what seemed too long. He sounded almost regretful of what he had said by then.

“...Say that again?”

“I’ve... fallen in love with you.”

The blond considered for a brief moment and was going to say something but oh, those fireworks. _Enough with the firework game_ , he thought, leaning forward to kiss the other man, hoping for it to be enough of a message for the moment.


	11. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a few parallels happen, an act of heroism is performed and those who are, at the time, prisioners of their feelings slid away for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a long while for sure, so an apology for that. On another hand, this one is a double update (!!). I had chapter 11 done for ages, but it didn't seem right to post it on its own. It felt... incomplete, somehow. A little "thank you" goes to a friend who started reading and became incredible hyped over this. It's nice to see that kind of enthusiasm. I hope all of you had a wonderful start of this year we just entered and may it be a good one.

Genesis thought that maybe cell sharing was the cure for their crisis. Not any cell sharing, however: from what they had found so far, all lead to the thought that the cure had been lying in front of their noses all along and yet they exchanged it, unknowingly, for whatever Hollander had in mind; for a promise that turned out to be nothing but sheer manipulation, wicked intentions of getting revenge on ShinRa through them that didn't stick in the end.

Hollander went along with them since their discreet escape from the company, only to complicate their lives more than anything.

And at the current moment, a very long time after the revengeful scientist had been left behind to rot, the degradation would still bite at Genesis almost maliciously; taking the color away from his face and turning his once auburn locks silver. Silver as the hair of the man they sought as the answer to that charade.

(Because Sephiroth's cells would cure them both, were he to share them, of course. Or so Genesis thought.)

The degradation seemed to take little to nothing out of Angeal, but that was what any outsider to their situation would say. The once auburn haired man allowed his eyes to close, unable to bear the pain that came from looking at his companion with such a broken expression taking over his features. (And also the sensation of an untreated, sprained ankle that seemed to draw attention to itself as Genesis was carried.)

The former SOLDIER could only pray to the goddess that — if they couldn't reach Midgar before the army caught up to them — he wouldn't have to see his companion break down once his time was up, that Angeal would be able to leave him behind and survive; perhaps do him justice and take the company down before it could ruin any more lives. Otherwise, he wasn't that keen on his own survival. That would be just a bonus if they managed to get back to the city and he turned out to be right about getting some of Sephiroth's cells. His only concern was how well Angeal would take the fact that, any moment now, the Planet could tear them apart. But probably, that was something the other man already knew, even though neither of them were willing to talk about it.

Oh, only if they hadn’t wasted so much time dealing with Hollander, believing in illusions that never came to any real result regarding the degradation they suffered from.

It had been an awful year, that first one.

In the beginning, Genesis had felt somewhat dizzy for days, listening through the various explanations of how there was a way to revert that condition and following like a chocobo chick after their mother; dragging Angeal along into that mess.

But as time passed, as that summer’s warmth faded into falling leaves and then into cold and hopelessness, his anger grew inside him just like a merciless fire that could eat away an entire forest. And just like that, he almost set the laboratory they were hiding in (the third one just that winter, yet probably not the last if Hollander were to still breathe) ablaze, only stopped because of the rage he noticed in his companion just before Angeal decided to abandon him to rot.

He never knew why the other man came back in the end, for he didn’t judge himself deserving of any salvation. After all, it had been him who tore them apart. Perhaps they were just running through a pointless journey and Sephiroth would deny them any help because of his final words to the silver haired man, of the way he didn’t insist and just chose to leave him behind and escape taking Angeal with him.

Two years had passed since they ran away, with Genesis’ degradation taking a turn towards acceleration within the last few months. And to think that at some point it had made him surprisingly stronger… It had been like a damaged rocket, making it’s way higher and higher only to fall harder and faster. Maybe it would’ve taken longer if Hollander didn’t get him to use his newly acquired copy abilities a few times. Perhaps that explained why Angeal still seemed to be that same impressive raging storm as before, though the man clad in red wouldn’t be surprised if something other than the other man’s emotions started to crumble; even though at a slower pace.

 _“There is no hate, only joy”_ He quoted from memory, pressing his nose against his companion’s neck, breathing out a sigh and taking in that familiar scent — one that practically screamed _home, safety_ — before carrying on _“For you are beloved by the goddess; Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.”_

“I’d say that was endearing… but it was LOVELESS.” That had Genesis letting out an annoyed sound, but he knew that Angeal was probably smiling as he said that, which was quite something considering their current situation. “I don’t know why I gave you that book and we were almost found once thanks to you quoting it aloud. It’s almost regrettable.”

“You say almost, thus you can’t deny that you don’t regret it fully.”

Angeal said nothing until they came to a stop near a cliff. Maybe they could hide there for a while and rest. Judging by the landscape, they should be close, if not almost there; practically back to Midgar. The dark haired man sighed, placing his companion on the lifeless ground and sitting near him. The other man pressed against his side almost immediately, as if he were longing for that constant protection he offered or worse, as if he were seeking _warmth_ from feeling colder and colder with time. None of them mentioned it, however.

“I told you before. I like your voice, very much so.” That and an endless amount of patience he had were perhaps the things that kept him from just dropping Genesis whenever the quoting session started. It was only fair, as he knew the man held a similar feeling about his lectures, though Genesis wasn’t as patient as him.

“Hm.” Genesis took his hand and went straight back to reciting “ _Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul—_ ”

“Gen, no.” Angeal protested, letting out his white wings to wrap around the other man, feeling him even colder, then. “We both know how that part ends and… it sounds hopeless. Timing.”

“Apologies, my dearest friend.”

The dark haired man sighed, turning to press a kiss at the top of Genesis head. He disliked that the vivid auburn of the other’s hair had long faded to silver, but not because he dreaded platinum hair; it was more the worry that the Planet would claim his companion soon, the desperation that they wouldn’t make it to Midgar in time. “Just rest for now. I don’t know when we’ll stop again or when we’ll be able to get another ride.”

Genesis let out a quiet sound of agreement, but the silence that fell was cut short by a loud noise. The army had probably caught up with them, again.

* * *

Cissnei had been given a mission that afternoon that she’d rather not take if personal choices were to be taken into consideration. The more conflicting implications of it were that the company seemed to be divided over that issue and if she were to fail, the guilt of not being able to rescue someone who meant so much for a former friend would be there to haunt her.

And yet, funny enough, she had never told Zack or his mentor her real name. The puppy eyed SOLDIER had always known her by one of her codenames, of a long list that wouldn’t be disclosed.

She wondered what he could be up to these days. Hopefully living peacefully somewhere far from Midgar. The last she heard, one day after he was formally dismissed of duty, no trace of Zack Fair seemed to be left in the area other than the records Shinra had of him. It was also no surprise that the girl her boss was supposed to watch over had disappeared too. After that, SOLDIER had been nothing but a mess and less people seemed to been joining. It was almost as like that whole department was soon to fall into collapse and those responsible by it were doing nothing but trying to conceal that fact.

“Shuriken, look!” Katana, the Turk assigned for that mission as well, caught her full attention. Apparently, in the desert below, the Shinra army seemed to be advancing towards a specific point. Perhaps way too specific, which looked suspicious.

“Do you think that it’s them?” She asked, already heading the chopper in that direction as fast as possible, no matter what would be his answer.

“Most likely. And that looks like trouble.”

One couldn’t speed up a chopper more than that, which had Cissnei only hoping that they would get to the targets before the army.

* * *

 

Sephiroth had spent that week… thinking. Perhaps too much, but with the blond’s determination in helping him find a solution for the issue of the curse growing and with the shorter man’s wish to learn more of his past, to get him to open up more, going the same way, he could only wonder if it was alright to tell more about himself. By that point, Cloud was aware of how both Angeal and Genesis were like and the fate that had taken them somewhere else the ex-General never followed; the days when being in Shinra became worse than it was before. In return, the winged man learned that the courier felt guilty about seeing him and being unable to help, as it felt the same as watching a certain housemate attempt to cross a bridge in the mountains and falling along instead of being a savior.

He didn’t know how to say that Cloud was already saving him by being near him, even though it couldn’t lift the curse. It made him frustrated. Looking at the blond, Sephiroth could tell that the man was also frustrated.

Looking back at everything, Sephiroth thought that maybe revealing that one secret could make the courier even more frustrated. But at the same time, the other man had the right to reject him if those feelings wouldn’t turn out to be mutual.

And in the end, he (perhaps) picked up a odd night to do so. Maybe even the wrong night to do that, as the bright and desperately loud fireworks were part of that little festival. It also felt like some sort of cliche from one of those dramas Genesis liked so much to read, watch and comment about despite no one in their small social circle sharing a similar interest in such things. (And funny enough, despite the way they parted, Sephiroth missed him as much as he missed Angeal). He kind of wanted to hear Cloud commenting on that and laughing it off, though it never happened.

Sephiroth felt lighter after that confession, but no less ready to hear a rejection or see a frustrated expression; both of which never came to be, an unexpected reaction happening instead. It surprised him, but couldn’t keep him from kissing back, turning the initial softness of it into something more desperate. It had been quite a while since he realized he wanted to do that and as it finally happened, it was almost as if something had snapped inside of him.

And all of sudden, he felt strangely… warm.

* * *

 

Reno sighed, annoyed. What a night to have such an assignment, when back in Midgar people were holding a similar sort of celebration as the one in Hati, despite the differences between the two places. At least being in a chopper gave him a nice view of the fireworks that night, even though both he and Rude were meant to be working; watching over the city to make sure no incidents happened, as it was known that an interesting pair was supposedly around Midgar… and the company had yet to hear back from the men who were sent to know if action had been taken regarding those two people.

“I know that the department is responsible by public safety, but are we just gonna play watchmen now? Seriously, yo?” He rolled his eyes. The sight outside was… flashy.

“The fugitives.” Rude simply stated “They might be around the area.”

“I know, I know. But nothing showed up so far, so I guess—” Reno stopped, something on the rooftops below them getting his attention as the fireworks made things lighter one more time. Something oddly black and silver. _Man_ , he thought, _who’s crazy to stay on a rooftop this late?_ He got his binoculars as soon as he could to get a better look. _Oh_. “Rude, when you say fugitives, does it include _Sephiroth_ as well?”

“What?”

“I just— here, take a look.” The redhead said, offering the binoculars. Rude didn’t even bother taking his shades off. “Down there, on the rooftops. Man, it’s almost like seeing a ghost.”

However, the bald man saw… nothing. Just snowy rooftops and no potentially suspicious men with long silver hair and an even longer, equally suspicious katana. No disturbances or random freaks there either.

“There’s nobody there.” He simply stated, returning the binoculars to the other man. “Maybe you really saw a ghost.”

“Aw, c’mon! He was there, I swear!” The Turk looked again, just to make sure that he really saw the former General doing Odin-knows-what on a rooftop in such a small city. Well, at least way smaller than Midgar, that is. Reno let out a frustrated sigh at seeing exactly what his partner saw: absolutely nothing out of the usual.

* * *

Cloud let out a small sound of protest at being practically manhandled and taken to the floor again in a hurry. It was so suddenly; one moment he was just sitting on a rooftop in the sappiest of the situations and in the next he was being carried to a dark alley in a heartbeat. The blond shot an inquisitive look at Sephiroth when the other man let him down.

“I’m sorry. I… I thought I heard a helicopter, so I panicked.”

“Oh. Do you think it was…?”

“Maybe. But probably because of the festival.” Yet it could be problematic if it was truly Shinra flying around the area and if rumor spread that he could be alive.

“Do you want to head back?” The shorter man suggested, to which he received a nod of agreement and the sight of that mass of dark feathers disappearing behind the other man. “Alright, then. Let’s mosey.” The blond said with a smile and the two of them started on their way back home. It was a strange thought, that Sephiroth didn’t really belong to that place because there was always the upcoming morning to take him away. However, there was some enjoyment in thinking that one day it was a thing that could change.


	12. The Fates Are Cruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which birds fly high only to have gravity tear of their wings. There are no dreams, hope shred to pieces and too soon the end seems nigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of a double update. This is the part that gave me trouble and had me stuck considering a solution to a problem I created previously. Just for fun, among the dummied solutions was having this be the beginning of an ending in which there simply was no solution for that curse and Cloud just moved out to a place distant from the city with Sephiroth, to share the tragic fate of having the man just be "the statue in his garden" during the day. But that sounded especially tragic as it ended with Cloud dying of age (as he doesn't have J-cells or is a "Weapon" of sorts) and Seph giving up his night moments to become a full time statue with a restless soul inside. Another solution was finding a way to petrify Cloud too, but I ended up discarding that one as well.
> 
> Now a few (but not all) notes about the actual chapter. First of all, I'm sorry. So terribly sorry. (You'll understand soon). Second, thanks for the patience with my irregular update schedule. And last, but not least, I love writing status effects and other mechanics of the sort as plot devices, heh.
> 
>  
> 
> Here we go, all aboard the angst train!

Sephiroth stared at the ceiling above them with uncertainty, just taking in the quiet noises of Cloud’s breathing; the weight and warmth of the body beside him, in denial of the subject of well, himself and that problematic curse. There was, of course, no regret in his decision of telling the blond about his feelings, — quite the opposite, actually — only worry that suffering was a path to follow ahead. Thinking about such a thing only made him feel odd ever since Cloud closed the room’s door after them.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” He asked at last, which had the other man tilting his head up to look at him. “That we only have the nights and nothing else besides this time?”

“A little. But I think it’s worth it.” Cloud hummed thoughtfully “At least it’s something until we can find out a way to cure you.”

“And what if it’s permanent?”

“Then I’ll have to find a way to join you instead.” The blond simply answered, not even thinking twice about it.

Sephiroth wanted to push him out of the bed, straight to the floor and leave him there. Gaia, that was a stupid thing to do, to throw one’s life away like that. He frowned and said nothing in response, but that only made the other man move even closer to him.

“...Alright, let’s hope it’s not permanent, then.” Cloud whispered against his neck, as if he could read his mind. The silver haired man hummed his agreement, followed by a kiss against the top of the blond’s head.

Of all the ways he imagined the night ending, none included all that peaceful cuddling and small kisses. Maybe time had really made him a pessimist and that part of him that expected Cloud to refuse his feelings — the part that insisted that the moment he said anything, everything would go down; and the moment it went alright, it was difficult to absorb — was screaming at the surreality of that situation, of how things were going perfectly well if he could disregard the curse, even for the briefest of the moments.

The instant the blond opened his mouth again, it was to trivially mention the fireworks of that night, which quickly evolved into the sort of conversation they usually shared; of details such as how much clearer the sky at Nibelheim was — despite the fact that Cloud hated that city — or how one could only see the stars in Midgar from the upper plates and even so, they seemed to be fewer and fewer each passing year.

“Hm. You should probably go to sleep.” Sephiroth said upon hearing what sounded like a yawn. And indeed, when the blond protested he sounded like he could use exactly that; a good night’s rest.

“But... I don’t want you to go.” Cloud murmured without thinking.

“Oh,” the silver haired man smirked “so you’d prefer to keep me in your room for the whole day tomorrow?”

Cloud playfully shoved him, considering just then his own words. Oh, he’d definitely keep Sephiroth and never let him go if he could, but there was always the matter of Tifa going upstairs for any possible reason and finding out that not-so-little secret.

“You’re right… see you tomorrow, then?”

The winged man turned to kiss him as slowly as he could; as if there was regret in his suggestion that the blond should sleep and that he should take his leave. “Good night”, he whispered before standing up to make his way towards the window.

But before he could even open the window, Cloud followed him, burrowing his face against the dark feathers of the large wing on his back and pulling him into a hug with a muffled “Wait”. It was so unexpected that it stole a small gasp from the taller man.

“What?” Sephiroth asked, sounding a little conflicted.

“...I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answered and from the way he sounded it wasn’t hard to tell that there was a smile accompanying that.

* * *

Morning came too soon, Cloud thought as the rays of light pulled him away from his sleep. And still he couldn’t believe the night before, even though it was something that really happened in the end; the fireworks and soft whispers, all the cuddling and occasional kissing that made him feel younger somehow; as if he could, suddenly, relive his teenage years but beside some good company. It felt refreshing, if anything.

But due to his sleepiness from having just woken up, it took a while for it to dawn on him that something other than the state of his relationship with that man had changed. (And that alone was already distracting enough for the realization to take even longer to hit him.)

However, once it came into view, the blond almost screamed with the meaning such a sight carried, for the feather that Sephiroth gave him, long ago, was solid black and definitely not petrified. The morning light offered it a bright lining on the edges and the softness of the quill could be noticed even without touching. He had touched that wing too many times to tell how it felt just from the look of the feathers, anyway.

There was no hesitation as Cloud headed downstairs and headed for the garage as quickly as he could, a single black feather tight in his grasp and the wish that the winged man hadn’t just flew away. Not that he could imagine Sephiroth doing so after the night before, but yet… Gaia. If his feather wasn’t petrified anymore the only thing it could mean was that somehow the curse had been lifted and that the man was free to go wherever it pleased him. He couldn’t believe that the other would wait for him to show up in that cold square, just sitting there and probably attracting attention, no matter how much Sephiroth loved him.

Fenrir purred beneath the blond in a way that only told him that it would need some maintenance soon, but he couldn’t care less.

* * *

The night before, when Sephiroth left the blond’s room, the odd feeling that something was different hit him. It was only dismissed as the absence of the other man already making itself known, even though he never thought of himself as someone that could get attached to anyone in such a level of immediately missing them the minute he left them behind. He thought it was strange yet somehow endearing the way Cloud affected him.

By the time he had returned to the square, the festival seemed to have ended and for that he was grateful. It was then only a matter of waiting for the sunrise that would steal his mobility away.

But the terrifying feeling of being petrified right where he stood never came to him. Daylight hit him, bright enough to be bothersome to eyes that were unused to the sensation of it. Along with it came the impression that something was ticking, like a clock in a silent office, distant and yet too close. Nowhere and everywhere.

Despite the thought that he could be imagining things, once it settled in there was nothing left but panic as Sephiroth knew exactly what that sound was. For the briefest of the moments the fact that his curse was no more had filled him with happiness, but with its removal something else entirely had awaken from a halt to shown its colors; way too alarming for its own good, dreaded and unexpected.

And for that one condition, he was definitely aware that there wasn’t a cure.

* * *

In the end, it was no surprise to him that Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen, though for a moment Cloud hoped that he would manage to get to him in time.

On the ground around the statue’s base the man once occupied, there were black feathers. Not a dozen of them, however, but a massive number. Hundreds, maybe, but he couldn’t tell exactly. They were very contrasting against the white of the soft snow covering the ground, so much that there was no way they could go unnoticed. Just like the one the blond carried with him, they weren’t made of stone any longer.

 _And terrifyingly enough, they were gradually fading into green light, slowly_.

“No… Sephiroth… what happened to you...?” He murmured to himself before noticing the trail of feathers leading outside the square. The only thing left to do was to follow before all of them could disappear into thin air. And so he did.

The feathers kept disappearing as he went. Cloud realized he had never felt so much fear like that before. It was _consuming_ him. He just needed reassurance that everything would be okay once he arrived at the end of the trail.

He wasn’t sure for how long he’d been following the feathers before a color other than black and white appeared. It wasn’t just any ordinary color, but red, mixing with the snow and dyeing it. It smelt strongly like _blood_. The sight of it set his heart racing even faster and if he wasn’t running fast enough before, he was, now. The feathers were increasing in number, as if their owner was slowing down, until it all reached an end.

In the middle of the snow, just slightly away from the city, a silver haired man was kneeling down and staring at his shaking, bloody hands in some sort of shock. The single wing on his back lacked a large amount of feathers and whenever he tried to move, more of them would fall. That long sword of his was on the ground, not far from him. He started coughing as Cloud dashed to his side.

“Good to see you… Cloud.” It was almost a whisper, his voice coming out roughly though trembling lips. Somehow, it sounded slightly ironic.

"What happened to you?" The blond reached out a hand to touch the other man’s cheek, trying not to lose it at the sight of bloody trail on Sephiroth’s chin.

"The curse… was lifted. So anything that... wasn't affecting me before—" He coughed, suddenly clinging to Cloud as if his life depended on it. _Maybe it did._ Perhaps if he held onto him hard enough it'd stop hurting everywhere and the noise of ticks in his head that somehow told him how much time he had left would cease. "...is affecting me now." Sephiroth paused, finding breathing to be something difficult to do at the time. “You... shouldn’t be… here.” He finally managed to say. “I don’t want you to—” _See this happen_ , he thought but was interrupted as he coughed again, letting more blood out; so hard that he trembled in the courier's arms. By the warmth of him, the Cloud could tell that Sephiroth seemed to have a fever as well. The blond let go of the winged man and turned his back to him.

"Hold on, I'm taking you home."

"I'm... too heavy for you." He protested.

"No, you're not. Just cling to me." It was a lie. Sephiroth was heavier than what he normally could lift and carry around with ease. It'd take an extra effort to carry him to Fenrir to return home. (It didn’t sound wise, but anywhere else and people would have a heart attack with the wing. Even though “people” included Tifa, she was from Nibelheim as well and on the mountains there were even more surreal things to be seen.) Cloud, however, didn't care whether or not his own back would be a painful mess later. "Try to stay awake... please. For me." The sound that was given in response to that seemed to be one of agreement.

He walked for some minutes in silence, realizing by then that carrying the silver haired man was already making his back ache in protest. "You still awake, Seph?" He heard the man let out another groan of pain in response. "Don't sleep, alright?"

They spent some time like that, Cloud carrying him on his back and trying to keep him awake and Sephiroth unable to say much other than a murmured, weak "Yes", "No" or let out any sounds that weren’t groans of pain. An unpleasant silence fell as they made it back to the square and could get on the blond’s motorcycle. Luckily, most people had retreated to their houses because of the weather. Those who remained weren't paying attention to them. The courier was almost dragging himself along the way, his back hurting like ridiculous, one or two pained noises escaping his lips once in awhile because of that.

"Cloud." He wondered after a while as they were on their way to where the shorter man lived, his voice sounding raspy. "Why are you... helping me?" The fever was getting to him at full force then, rendering Sephiroth almost delusional.

"Because I love you."

"But... I'm... a monster."

"No, you're an angel." Cloud felt angry to have to say that again. If only he could find a way to settle things with everyone that made that man feel that way, everyone that treated him as less than a human being... it burned inside him as much as the pain of carrying Sephiroth on his back for so long. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise... ever. You're a fallen angel... you're my angel."

The silver haired man fell silent again as he didn't know what to say against that and the pain of that undesired condition was taking over faster and faster. He wanted to sleep it off and, perhaps, not wake up anymore. It sounded so inviting. He wouldn't have to feel that sort of pain anymore. Or have to feel like a burden. But that would probably hurt Cloud, very much so.

 _He didn't want to hurt Cloud_.

However, each second that passed by seemed to add more weight to his eyelids and more intensity to the pain he felt. It was spreading from his head to his wing and the place it met his back to everywhere else, consuming him. It was more than what he could take. It was too much, way too much. He weakly called Cloud's name before everything turned black and he became boneless, his grip on the man in front of him loosening as he couldn't take it anymore, giving in to that weird sleepiness that took over.

Sephiroth could swear he'd heard the blond call back to him, desperately, as everything faded out. It was probably the first time Cloud had called him by his name like that rather than by the shortening of it he used so often. It felt oddly surreal.

The world was as dark as the remaining feathers that still lingered on his wing, the courier's voice becoming nothing but white noise, echoing and eventually fading into nothing but an uncomfortable silence. On the far end of the darkness he could see a green light. It seemed heavenly and it was calling out to him. What could happen if he approached it? He wondered, but didn't move. He _couldn't_ move. He was stuck in the darkness and it wouldn’t let him move forward. It wouldn't allow him to go back, either. His lack of control over that was nothing but absolutely _terrifying_.

* * *

Cloud almost crashed against the nearest thing, so big was the fright he had once he noticed the winged man fainting against him. Sephiroth was still breathing but weakly enough to be desperately concerning. The fact that he could get home safely was almost a surprise that he didn’t get to enjoy in his despair.

 _A Phoenix Down and a Cure was everything he wanted to get, then_.

Tifa, still in her pajamas, covered her mouth with both hands at the sight of her friend opening the door and entering the way he did, a stranger with a wing being carried inside and signs of blood in plain sight.

“Cloud, what the f—”

“There’s no time to explain! Just please, help!” He sounded too close to crying, so despite her shock ( _Was that really a wing?!_ ) and confusion, she promptly helped getting that stranger to the nearest bedroom — which turned out to be hers — and rushed out to get some Downs and a Cure, by demands that were basically screamed at her in desperation.

First thing she assumed was that by some twist of fate, Cloud had ran over that winged someone and that his trauma with failing to protect her in the past was kicking in, in a way or another. But as she came back to her friend crying all over that stranger and whispering something against the other’s hand, that assumption seemed… off. As if somehow the blond knew the man from somewhere.

The brunette decided that the best course of action was trying the Down herself, as she didn’t trust letting Cloud do so in that state of mind. Two of those later and still nothing, the blond took the Cure and the rest of the Phoenix Downs away from her hand, too fast and anxiously; too lost in despair to think straight. At this point, the man in her bed seemed to have stopped breathing, but she couldn’t say without properly checking.

As if her friend would let her do so, with the way he was behaving.

“Cloud, I don’t think that will—” She tried to say, but he just ignored her and cast the spell after burning another Down.

Of course, nothing changed. Naturally, he tried again, more alarmed with every passing second. And once more as his second attempt equally failed.

“Cloud, stop!” She tried to steal the materia from his hands to keep him from casting again, to no avail. “It’s useless! If you keep casting you’ll— Cloud!”

But he continued, only to have her more concerned and desperate with the whole situation. He was abusing magic for no gain. If the blond kept at it and ran out of energy… Gaia, she didn’t need the mental image, but it was what would most likely happen if the courier tried a few more times.

“He’s not… he’s not coming back! Why... isn’t he—” He sobbed, casting again.

“Cloud, please! Stop casting!” Tifa begged, close to tears herself, trying to take the green sphere away from him only to be shoved.

The moment that followed the next cast, Cloud was dropping to the side — into her arms — having fainted out of exhaustion, his grip on the man’s hand loosening and the materia he held falling only to roll to somewhere under the bed.

It was only then, with the blond in against her, that she stopped to properly check that winged stranger’s pulse, only to realize that he was gone. Imagining the way her friend would react upon waking up only drove Tifa to tears, desolated and not knowing what to do with a handsome, dead stranger on her bed and an unconscious Cloud nestled against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But how do I save a doomed man?", I thought, but right there was my solution. You don't save someone affected by Doom. You can only offer them... relief.
> 
> A trivia: Doom is my least favorite status effect in this sort of game. In another, scary note, I was playing FF: Record Keeper earlier and [defeated a boss that doomed Seph in the very last second.](http://i.imgur.com/cGunT1F.png) This status effect makes me too anxious sometimes. In another trivia, FFs in general seem to put countdowns and trees all against me. 
> 
> Anyway, don't worry much. It won't end all angsty.


	13. Those Who Earn the Planet's Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth meets Minerva, Tifa meets a stranger under unusual circunstances and Cloud wakes up to something unexpected. (Or in a LOVELESS way, the prisoner reunites with his loved one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, very long time no see! What even is updating frequently, you might ask. Well, well. You could say that life is like that one boss in a game that will cast all sort of debuffs on your character at random times and that unfortunately it chose to cast the dreadful Slow and Writer's Block spells on me and that I was as much stuck as Sephiroth under his cursed state through most of this, without any ideas to solve it. In less allusion and more seriousness (?) though, I just lost my way on what I wanted to do with this and it took me too long to find it again. I randomly had ideas for the second arc, the ending of this AU, even came up with whole AUs out of nowhere, but didn't see to get any ideas to work on the direct continuation here (and maybe I deleted this whole chapter more than I should out of simply judging my own writing skills an awful lot). Anyway, my apologies for leaving you all at _that_ point of the story. I intended to update quickly but you see what happened instead, heh.
> 
> By the way, this particular arc is about to find closure in just one (maybe two, but hopefully one) chapter, after which we move on to an interlude one-shot before the second arc. The following arc will focus more on some certain character(s) ( :3c ) of this rather than on Seph/Cloud themselves, but as the story is planned to go they're very likely to appear as well.

Tifa had to admit to herself that it was quite a situation she found herself in; a dead man in her room with apparently a single wing on his back and her friend knocked out due to his desperation in trying to bring said winged man back to life. The brunette could only wonder why it hadn’t worked in the end, as she picked Cloud up and carried him away from her room so he could rest properly.

She couldn’t even come up with a mental image of what would be the blond’s reaction once he recovered and realized that his attempts of saving whoever that was went down the drain. That and the matter of what to do about said someone.

“So what do I do now?” Tifa asked herself as she made her friend the more comfortable she could on their living room’s couch. It was a question kind of directed to the unconscious young man as well, but an exhausted Cloud obviously had no answer to that question of hers.

* * *

Sephiroth never thought that he’d die because of something of the likes of a Doom spell. (And when exactly was that cast, anyway? Did it come along the curse? Was that the reason why it didn’t act on him before? He couldn’t tell, but that was most likely to be the case.) He didn’t even consider the fact that his life would come to an end as early as that, despite considering that he would fall to his demise at one point. Maybe any point past his thirties, but not any earlier than that.

However, it was the fact that the Lifestream wasn’t allowing him in that was the most curious of that whole ordeal. Once he could move, he took one step forward only to find himself swallowed by unwelcoming green streams. While his spirit longed for the eternal peace of joining the flow, the same streams seemed to reject him and render him stuck in place once again.

But not long it took for a vision to appear before him, descending from the unknown space above. A beautiful woman with blonde hair clad in a suit of golden armor, her eyes practically a mirror of the color of the streams around him. There was certainly a hint of divinity about her being. She didn’t speak, not with words at least, but rather stared at him for a moment perhaps too long. Her face seemed to adopt a slightly confused expression at the matter of him being there as she considered what to make out of that fact, exactly.

At last she averted her gaze, her pale eyes closing as she did so. As a result, light seemed to rush to him, urging to do something about his presence in the Lifestream. And just as quickly, everything faded into darkness, but not before a voice — so familiar that it tugged at his heartstrings in a cruel manner — could reach out to him.

_She meant to say you don’t belong here yet._

* * *

Air came in like a forest fire consuming everything in its path or like uncontrolled flames bringing a whole town to its demise (especially because something smelled like burned remains of too many Phoenix Downs), — he couldn’t pick a comparison between the two, but both felt equally terrible — except that instead of dying, the winged man was actually breathing again, albeit doing so in painful gasps and despite his dizziness. How long had he been breathless and unmoving for any amount of air to feel like it wasn’t enough in such a manner?

The room around him seemed to be spinning, which had Sephiroth closing his eyes again. If he was really meant to return, why wasn’t he able to do so before?

_Breathe in, then out, now try to focus_.

By the time his breathing had evened out and the room wasn’t spinning as much to the point he could open his eyes again, the silver haired man heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor not that far away from where he was, followed by what sounded like a muffled scream. Sephiroth looked up to see a woman standing by the doorway, looking quite shocked — probably due to his presence there.

“Oh my gods! You’re alive!” She exclaimed and tried to approach before remembering the glass of water she dropped in her surprise. The brunette had to carefully make her way to him then, getting a hold of his wrist and taking his pulse, still quite alarmed by his breathing presence in that room. _Oh, right_. He had died, after all. That was more than enough reason to cause that much alarm. Did she see him die? He wondered.

“Holy Odin,” the woman murmured to herself “to think that Cloud went hysterical over you… and now you come back on your own…”

Sephiroth coughed, which was worrisome but would’ve been worse if blood were to escape him once more. Thankfully, there wasn’t an internal countdown to an inevitable demise going on anymore or any bodily signs that something was very, very wrong.

“You’re… Tifa?” It came as no surprise to him that his voice was hoarse and came out with some effort.

Tifa nodded, reaching out to brush a few hair strands out of his face, apparently having calmed down after the initial fright of finding him alive in that room. Judging by the look of the place, it was likely to be her room and not just an extra, guest room. “Are you wounded somewhere?” She asked, avoiding a pointless _Are you alright?,_ to which he mouthed a “No”. The mako in his body was rushing everywhere trying to get him stable again and while the sensation of it didn’t make him as dizzy as the initial air deprivation after coming to his senses, it was still awful.

“Alright, uh… breathe and try to stay awake. I’ll be right back.” Tifa said and left, but didn’t take a long time to come back with a damp cloth. Even so, it was to find the man trying to sit up. “No, what are you doing? Stay down, you’ve just—”

“It’s… fine.” He still sounded a little hoarse but at least didn’t look like he would faint anytime soon. If anything, he seemed to be recovering at a quicker rate than it’d be normal — as if coming back from death was just a common occurrence. The wing behind him gave a small, weak twitch, its bearer sighing a little annoyed and sad at the lack of feathers on most of it. “My apologies. I might… have made a mess on your bed with snow, blood and feathers… probably dirt too.”

“A-ah? No… it’s fine. I mean, you were pretty much out when Cloud brought you in, so… yeah.” The brunette scratched the back of her head somewhat nervously. “...Ok, this is pretty surreal”, she said as she cleaned some blood out of his chin. The man could use a good shower but that meant he’d need something clean to wear that wouldn’t be made of leather. That only made things even more surreal. “You… have a wing. And it’s real. It can’t be part of a costume because no way it’d twitch or even look like _that_. And uhn…” Tifa paused and stared at him. “Are the cat-eyes real or…? Is that the mako glow? SOLDIER?”

“Yes, also yes and… you’re very observant.” He noted with a soft smile that had her relax a little more. Tifa sat by his left, giving the extra appendage a quick look. Maybe the most surreal thing of it all wasn’t that there was a wing, but the fact that there was only _one_. It didn’t seem like something very optimal and it only had her wondering if there was any way one could even fly with a single wing.

But regardless of the ability to fly or the lack of it, the skin there didn’t look quite well. It was almost as if whatever happened to that man caused him some sort of allergic reaction, but until he’d tell her anything about what happened Tifa could only speculate. “Uh… does that hurt?”

“It... itches in the most strange way. I don’t know how to explain this, it’s like they were forced out without being pulled and it feels uncomfortably warm now. I... don’t want to sound demanding, but I need something cold to put on it. Maybe a towel, please?”

Tifa nodded and left him by himself once more. Her return brought him relief in the form of a somewhat cold towel being placed on the appendage behind him. “...Thank you.”

“No problem” She replied and sat by his side again. “So uh, what’s your name?”

“It’s Sephiroth.” Tifa had quite the puzzled expression of one who considered heavily the matter of _Why would anyone name their child with a name like that?_ or even as she could be considering how that would be spelled based on pronounce alone. “Yeah, I know… it’s not that common.” He further mused with an awkward smile.

“No, sorry, it’s just… that sounds like something someone would pull out a Nibelheim myth.” The brunette chuckled “Well, you really _look_ like someone out of a myth. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

There was simply no way Sephiroth wouldn’t laugh about having such a thing pointed out to him. Not after the time he spent doomed — and now he knew it was also literally doomed — with that curse. It was indeed something almost out of a tale, maybe even one of those that people would share on a campfire, under a sky that either shone with the moonlight or the shimmering of the faraway stars. It was practically ironic after all Shinra did to make him their best one, almost a serviceable guard hound to kill under their name and be the unnamed hero to attract others into the military, that he’d have some sort of story to tell that wasn’t widely known but rather lied in secrecy.

Tifa got concerned with all that laughter and was quick to ask the reason of that.

So he told her a story about a winged man who fled a place where he no longer wanted to be due to the suffering that came along with being there and how said man was made prisoner of a curse that held him in a prison of stone during the day but set him free to roam as much as it was wanted as the night fell.

The brunette just listened intently, guessing it was probably about him but never interrupting to confirm it. And so Sephiroth continued, explaining that another man — a younger one — would fatefully get stuck on the cursed statue’s sword, only to realize that it was alive.

And almost every night the younger man would come to visit (whenever the opposite wouldn’t happen as time passed). By some odd luck, no one else would really be around at that time of reunion or by the rules of the world, people would be too busy with their own lives to notice. So a secret it was.

(And what a good secret to have, as it made nights less lonely and hope start to grow in a heart that had almost forgot the feeling of it.)

However there was the issue of the curse to conflict them as the answer to solve it seemed unknown — the matter that hurt most as the younger man only wanted to help one who grew dearest to him and the angel was too fond of that companion that it’d pain him to see any attempts of helping going on in vain.

And one day, after feelings were exchanged during a shining night, — one he told her about carefully, carrying on with it almost too gently not to hurt any feelings too much if they existed — the curse was lifted for some reason (Could a kiss have interrupted it? Could it have ended after a set time? Could a deep, hopeful wish have done the job? It wasn’t known) and so the angel was nowhere to be seen as sunlight gently took over.

( _But there was another secret_.)

The angel was set to die after the curse would be lifted — most likely because of a spell set together with it — and preferred to leave his companion think he had just flied away. Because after all, who would want to be seen dying in an inevitable way by z loved one after all that happened?

Fate was turned around however, gently, though insistent in turning. (And though the prisoner escapes, he was gravely wounded. His life was saved, however, by the younger man who came from a distant land and the never resting energy of the Lifestream which decided his time wasn’t due just yet.)

Tifa put the puzzle pieces together, even though that tale oddly resembled LOVELESS in a way. So the man sitting on her bed wasn’t only just a man of his own tale, but was also dating Cloud too. And by the way he lightened up when talking of that young man only told her that Sephiroth was happy and oh, most likely so fond of the blond. For Cloud to be that desperate when he came home… it could only be that he probably felt the same way. Although for quite a time then she’d been keen on the notion that her friend didn’t like her that way and had even started to move on, there was no helping that little bit of sadness that she intended to keep in secrecy. The thought that Sephiroth somehow gave off a feeling of being a very good match for her housemate was bigger than that, however.

“It’s... good that you’re alright, then.” She smiled “So when he wakes up he can be relieved instead of... well… mournful.”

Sephiroth nodded in agreement. “Yes. Though I still don’t know what to do to make up to him about the major fright I probably gave him.”

“Hm, right… yeah. There’s that. But ah, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Tifa shifted, intending to leave again and maybe check if one of their neighbors had something they could lend to a man that tall, at least for the night. “Alright, I’m gonna see if I can get you something else to wear and—”

A third someone gasped, which directed their attention to the door. Tifa had barely any time to warn about the glass on the floor before the blond rushed in, focused on the sight that a breathing, very much _alive_ Sephiroth made — which was one that affected him enough that he had begun to cry once he was near enough for the silver haired man to wrap his arms around Cloud’s waist and start murmuring apologies against the blond’s chest.

“...I… I thought… I t-thought that I’d lost you…” He sobbed, with trembly hands caressing silver tresses.

“I’m so sorry.” Sephiroth repeated, this time backing off and reaching up to wipe away the blond’s tears. It wasn’t even his fault as he had no control over death (or over coming back from it, that is), but thinking of just how much he had probably made the other man worry fuelled him with some guilty over the whole event. “Are you alright? You look like you wasted yourself by using too much magic. Do you need an Ether?” He turned to Tifa “Do we have any Ethers?”

“Yeah, hold on.” The brunette stood to get one from her dresser, which earned her a weird look from the winged man. “We ran out of space in the bathroom’s cupboard”, she explained to him as she made her way back to the bed and offered the bottle to the blond with the simple instruction to sit down and drink.

“...Gaia”, Cloud sobbed, albeit more calm than he was when he first entered the room “I didn’t want you two to meet like this. Maybe having dinner together would’ve been nicer…”

Sephiroth smiled “I agree. Dinner sounds nicer than dying on Tifa’s room and also causing a large fright by returning afterwards.”

Tifa seemed to agree with that notion, too. “And then you could’ve brought him a box of chocolate,” she teased “so I could sneak some for myself.” That made the blond laugh, which put all three of them in high spirits.

“As if I’d let you!” He laughed some more.

“Ah, but you wouldn’t know. That’s the whole purpose of ‘sneaking’.” She smiled wickedly. “Anyway! I’ll see if I can get this big guy some clothes.”

* * *

 

A strange silence settled once Tifa was gone, notably because there were many things Cloud wanted to ask about what had really happened but couldn’t dare to voice those questions. As for Sephiroth, the man didn’t seem to mind that quietude at all. If anything, he was concerned if he had really told that story to the brunette in the most delicate manner possible. He’d been hurt too much in life already that at that point, the winged man couldn’t bear to hurt someone else’s feelings despite the fact that an explanation to him knowing the blond was needed. There was really no point in hiding that bit about him and Cloud being together if part of the secret had already been exposed. She’d know eventually, in a way or another.

“This curiosity of yours looks like it’s eating you alive.” Sephiroth noted, catching the shorter man’s attention.

“It’s just… I can’t decide on what even to ask. You ran away for some reason and I saw you… die, but I don’t know what was killing you. Then you come back… and I’m so confused, how...?”

The other man threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a brief moment, perhaps considering how to answer those inquiries.

“There’s a... judgement of sorts when you die, though I may have found this out the hard way. Either the Lifestream accepts you into the flow or you return and well, I guess it wasn’t my time to go.” He sighed. “It only took me a while to come back.” It sort of made him wonder if Genesis knew that his Goddess was indeed real and that the old poetry he enjoyed so much to read and quote aloud held some bits of truth. What had become of the redhead was something to wonder with a certain worry if the voice Sephiroth heard while in the Lifestream had been something other than his imagination. It also made him think once more on whether or not he would come across Cloud if he’d chosen to run away with his friends.

“But why did you run away? I could’ve helped—”

“You couldn’t. I was affected by a Doom spell. I just… didn’t want you to see me dying like I knew I was.”

“Remind me to get you a ribbon, because you really could use one.”

Sephiroth chuckled. “Isn’t it an accessory for women only?” It sounded like a genuine question rather than any sort of mockery.

“That’s a silly concept.” The blond smiled and pulled up the hem of his pants to reveal a red ribbon tied around his ankle. “Maybe you’d have never been cursed if you wore one. But don’t worry, I’m not letting you go through that again.” Oh, and there were so many ways Sephiroth could use a ribbon, he thought. (Maybe hidden away like he kept his, perhaps even to tie up the long strands of silver cascading down against his back.)

And eventually though, the towel covering the featherless wing fell down on the bed, no longer supported by the appendage that returned to hiding.

“I feel sorry for your wing, now.” The blond offered upon noticing that, sounding somewhat melancholic “Will it be alright even after… well…”

“Give me a few days…” Sephiroth smiled, looking confident with his words “And please don’t touch it if I have it out unless I say so? It’s a troublesome process, having to grow them all over again.”

“I can only imagine.” Cloud sighed, wondering what it felt, having something such as feathers to grow on someone. “Alright, you big bird. You need a warm bath. And so do I, but you go first unless… are you sure you’re fine and don’t need any help in the shower?” He asked, a bit skeptical that one could come back from death and be alright like the other man apparently was. However, Sephiroth just stood up and turned to offer him a helping hand and a gentle smile instead.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Just show me where your bathroom is, please.”


	14. Begin Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Remember the pain, but begin anew_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No update schedule; only despair.
> 
> I apologize?
> 
> I never thought I'd update this again, to be quite honest.
> 
> Because of certain issues, I literally couldn't get to this fic without remembering things I didn't want to think about. I tried before and it didn't work well so I thought I shouldn't force myself to do it and left it the way it was. *shrugs*
> 
> Then when I wanted to update again, I forgot where I was going with it? So I tried not to think about this one at all, haha. But I kinda ended up getting soft reminders here and there, casual enabling and seeing other inactive fics returning to life after years of no updates and I just. I kept thinking about it I guess.
> 
> I had no notes for this at all other than random ideas for it noted down on various google docs files with unrelated names that made things difficult to find (2015/early 2016 me, why were you like this?) and I had to go through it all again (while wanting to edit EVERYTHING that bothered and still bothers me as I write here but also lacking energy to go back to edit) but here we are.
> 
> (What a ride!)
> 
> This is supposed to have a whole another arc to it, but update schedules aren't real so I don't know when that will come, I'm sorry.
> 
> Alas, update celebration, I guess? (◑ ᴥ ◑ )

The first week was certainly something.

Unused to his constant presence in the house, both Cloud and Tifa kept bumping into Sephiroth and his broad chest — especially the brunette, who was relatively shorter — at the most unexpected times. Cloud was the one who would ignore the brief apology the man offered and linger a little longer (maybe a little too long) where he was for a hug or a kiss — or both. But then again, he’d become clingier than expected, something which Sephiroth attributed that to both the change in the nature of their relationship and to the fright he gave the other man by dying, even if temporarily.

The house felt smaller than it was with the addition of a third person, even more when the infamous wing was out — Which, due to itching and being very sensitive to touches (especially of the wrong kind) in the state it found itself in, was an argument generator of sorts, as confirmed by another accidental case of running into Sephiroth and angry yelling that Cloud had to interrupt before it could lead to hair pulling or something like that.

In the end, the blond’s long haired friends made up during dinner. Or rather, Sephiroth’s cooking skills had them bonding again over food and forgetting that disastrous incident, much to Cloud’s relief.

A few days after, as the feathers started unfurling, the winged man became extremely... clingy, himself. He almost looked like a young bird with the way his feathers were still messy and with how he almost begged for attention with the looks he directed to the blond; his almost too quiet humming while the other man provided him said attention by delicately running fingers through the dark softness of the quills.

By the end of that first week, Tifa had found them sleeping on the couch and covered them with a blanket at least twice. Sephiroth had walked into the shower while Cloud was there at least once; as did the reverse happen, too. As it turned out, the same mako that sped up any healing and the feathers’ growth — and as the blond just supposed, hair growth as well — also had the man... _agitated_ , to say the least.

Sephiroth did more than just hum quietly in the shower, much to Cloud’s amusement.

* * *

Once they’ve finally accommodated to the situation properly, Aerith dropped by to visit, almost as if she knew they needed the time. She was the third person to learn about the fact Cloud had a boyfriend now; the first being obviously Tifa, who lived with them, and the second being Zack, as the blond felt as though he owed him an update for the advice.

(Having three people considerably shorter in the living room made Sephiroth appear to be slightly taller than he actually was, somehow.)

Aerith simply stared up at him with curious green eyes for a moment too long after they’ve been introduced to one another.

“You have a wing,” she noted, even if said wing was nowhere to be seen and despite nobody having told her about it. She didn’t seem disturbed about it, just smiling as the man gathered himself after the initial shock of how casual the short woman seemed to be about something she wasn’t supposed to know.

“How...?” He couldn’t even manage to let out the full question.

Aerith reached out to touch his arm just gently. “I can feel its presence, it’s all,” she said, as if it was a common thing to be able to feel such things. Next he knew, she was asking him if she could see it and soon, there it was; in the full darkness of its soft feathers, prompting an “Oh, it’s so beautiful” out of her.

In all honesty, Sephiroth didn’t know what to do with her and her compliment. He supposed he should thank her, but before he could she had turned to Cloud to compliment the shorter man on his “choice of angelic boyfriend” and almost immediately the blond was blushing. Tifa started chuckling quietly in her corner until she was asked by their guest about how Barret was doing and blushed as well, even as no one but Aerith seemed to know why.

Sephiroth decided he definitely liked Aerith.

He decided he liked her even more once she mentioned both Zack — and that bit of information hit him with full force because Gaia, he wondered about how seeing his old friend’s student again would be like — and herself could use a helping hand in their little but ever growing shop; the kind of work in which he wouldn’t have to deal with costumers that could, by some ill fate, be a Turk or someone who would recognize him. (As he imagined the second anyone from Shinra knew he was still alive and out there, there wouldn’t be any peace for him.) And well, Aerith concluded he was a nice enough guy to offer him the chance.

* * *

It was the tail end of summer when Sephiroth and Cloud were able to move out.

Their new house turned out to be a little one on the way between Tifa’s and _Gainsborough & Fair; Flowers and Presents_; somewhat old compared to the other buildings in that region yet standing tall, in a discreet location that shouldn’t attract Shinra’s attention in any way.

A great part of their backyard was occupied by an old fountain, with an angel in the middle of it holding a bowl from which water cascaded. Unlike Sephiroth, however, she had two wings — and those didn’t even look appropriate for flight given their size. Not that the silver haired man was really expecting the statue to actually fly or something.

Cloud looked at him with a particular _grin_ on his face and he thought for a moment about how many words that one expression could cover; how much it spoke of some weird kind of nostalgia and of another time, another place.

“I’m not sharing you,” Sephiroth said.

“Well, it’s not as if she’s gonna come alive in the evening anyway. Besides... she’s not even my type.”

The taller man tilted his head to a side, a little intrigued by that.

“And your type is?”

“Tall boys with one wing and long hair who get jealous of fountains, apparently,” Cloud snorted, “C’mon, we need to unpack. And, heh, inaugurate the new bedroom.” The smile the blond offered, spoke nothing about just lying down and resting, however.

Sephiroth simply sighed with a smile and nodded his agreement.

(And it was indeed far from sleeping, the way Cloud ended up on his back; careful yet firm fingers pressed against dark feathers, an insistent hand tugging on long silver strands and his heels digging into Sephiroth’s back as the man moved inside him — more and more intensely due to the blond’s demands to be taken “harder” and “faster” until neither of them could last any longer.)

That night, they lied down on bed together, making small talk as they usually would — a habit born of their meeting and getting to know one another that was never lost and most likely, never would be — Cloud with his head pillowed on the other man’s chest, relaxed as he listened to both Sephiroth’s voice and heartbeat.

“I... uhn, have a thing to confess,” the blond said at last, earning some soft humming as a reply that willed him to carry on. “...I’m afraid of losing you again,” he whispered, so quiet and yet just loud enough for Sephiroth to understand him, “I— it’s been months since that, but sometimes I remember and I just...”

Sephiroth’s arms tightened around him with that, as he was hit by that fear as well; more than anything, he was afraid for Cloud. He didn’t want to scare his boyfriend like that, no, never again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sephiroth promised almost recklessly, “at least not anywhere you can’t follow me and not without warning.”

He’d have to be out of his mind to abandon someone who was as precious to him as Cloud was, anyway.

“Is this a promise?”

“Mhmm.”

Cloud took a hold of a wild, silver strand of hair, just to be able to close his fist around something. The sigh he heard because of that was comforting enough that he couldn’t help but smile a little at it, tempted to pull on the hair but too tired to bother doing so. After all, he had tugged on it enough for a night.

“What if you... can’t keep it? What if something out of control happens again...?” The blond ended up asking, his smile all but fading with the reminder of such a difficult time.

“I’d tear the sky down just to stay next to you.”

“Now,” Cloud chuckled at the absurdity of that mental image, “that’s just too much, Seph.”

“I’d still do it, though. Because I love you.”

Even though he couldn’t see it due to how he was lying down, Cloud could still feel the smile in the other man’s words, could picture in his mind that green gaze; so full of nothing but fondness for him. He tilted his head up just enough so that he could gently kiss Sephiroth’s chin and whisper “I love you, too” before making himself comfortable again on the place he could hear his angel’s heartbeat the best.

“Sleep well,” Sephiroth murmured, soothingly, “tomorrow will be a busy day.”

_And yet another day of waking up by your side_ , he thought, forever charmed by that fact.

* * *

A man with short, auburn hair stood on a cliff, not so far from Midgar and its neighboring cities. The tips of his red coat often moved behind him with the calm breeze. _The sun will set soon_ , he thought, and in a while he’d have to leave that place behind again, for who knew how long. He sighed and turned around to face the simple sword stuck in the ground behind him, — a reminder of what he had lost — putting away a small book as he did so.

(When he stopped to think of it, in the end, out of the three of them Angeal was the one who fell into the role of the hero. Genesis was fated to wander in his continuous search for an old friend and so, he supposed, that made Sephiroth the prisoner. If the redhead was insistent in comparing the three of them to the characters in his favorite book, that is.

(And to think he had always thought of himself as the one who’d become the hero. Hah.)

Around the blade flowers had grown, so small and blue; contrasting against the dry environment they had settled in. (Yet another reminder not to forget.) They’d be gone again when the summer ended, unfortunately, but were sure to return despite all the difficulties in doing so.

The redhead raised his own blade to rest his forehead against the flat of it in a gesture he had picked from Angeal after everything ended and started anew. A single white feather fluttered on the end of the small chain he had attached to the sword’s hilt with the movement. He held his stance for a moment, his eyes closing in concentration as he fought back the still difficult memories that place held; the thought that, if only his degradation hadn’t been so advanced at the time, they’d have made it back to Midgar or to somewhere else that could be safe before the worst could’ve happened.

Or yet, if only he had been left behind to rot instead of being carried along until the very end; to their ruin that culminated in his salvation at the cost of his beloved’s eternal slumber... And definitely, he had to push aside the thought that Angeal would’ve liked the forget-me-nots growing in such a desert place; the memory of their time in Banora when they were kids that was always awakened by the sight of small bushes of flowers like that.

“ _Worry not_ ,” he quoted quietly to the wind, “ _for when the war is finally over, I shall return to you. Even if you don’t promise to wait; I’ll return knowing that you’ll be here_.” A part of him wished in secrecy for those words to have some truth to them even if he knew it to be unlikely, that this was the price he had to pay for his freedom.

Well, that along with the fact he was tasked by divine order to seek Sephiroth out before things could spiral out of control, which wasn’t an easy quest at all, given he had no idea where the man was. He’d only heard from a safe source that his old friend was no longer within Shinra’s cold walls; said to have been killed in action even if a body was never found and a funeral service was never held.

A man he imagined would be his cure, once, with whom he parted ways in an unpleasant manner. It was almost ironic when Genesis stopped to think about it further.

With a sigh, the redhead spared that place one last glance before turning to take to the skies.


End file.
